Making The Call
by Docnerd89
Summary: Making the call might just have been one of the best decisions of his life, he thought, as he stared at his phone again like he had been for the past five days. (AU from the S2 finale.)
1. Chapter 1

**Making the Call**

**A/N:** This is for CaskettFreak101, who sent me a PM out of the blue, telling me to write something. This isn't what you asked for in particular, but it's something.

This is set after the Season 2 finale. I know the premise has been covered before, several times. I've read a few of those stories myself, and a handful were so, so good it's ridiculous! Hopefully this is different. And hopefully you'll read it again because… well, who doesn't want to read Caskett?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Castle.

I own a boat!  
(No, I don't.)

* * *

Chapter 1

He stared at the device in his hand longingly, like he had been for the past five days. It had been fourteen days since he'd said goodbye to the precinct. Thirteen days since he'd come to the Hamptons to write his latest in the series of 'Heat' books. Five since he first had the urge to call her. Them. To call his team back at the twelfth. He missed them all. But truthfully, most of all, he missed her.

It was as if he was gathering the nerve since five days. On the first day, he just thought about calling her. Looking at his phone placed on the desk next to his laptop – several times in the day – before he shook himself out of it and dismissed the idea each time. What if she didn't _want_ to hear from him? What if she was busy? Preoccupied by something – or someone. No, he wouldn't want disturb her.

The second day saw his brain signals reaching all the way to his hand. He picked up the phone, turned it about in his hand, thinking the decision over. It's just a call from a friend. The idea of it was to exchange pleasantries. Friends do that. He could do that. _Hey, Beckett, _he could say, _how've you been?_ For some strange reason, he was afraid of the answer – afraid that she would be great. Doing well at work, and otherwise. Doing well without him there. It was an irrational thought. Of course she would be doing well. She'd been a fantastic detective far before he entered the picture – had to be to grab his attention – and she would stay that way long after he was out of it. The thought jolted his senses. He hoped, and hoped, and hoped that there was no 'after he was out of it'. Irrational or not, he was afraid. And so he didn't call.

Emboldened by the spirits – the drinking kind, and the family kind (His mother and daughter had very sweetly given him a pep talk. Alexis had been sweet, in any case. His mother had been her own brand of sweet, he supposed.) – his thumb made it all the way to her name on the contacts list. Then he fell back into his pattern of staring at it. Wishing for things. Thinking about things. Hoping for things. Thankfully, no matter what, he was a hopeful guy. Currently disheartened, however, hopeful.

Not calling her on the fourth day hadn't been his fault. Not entirely, anyway. Seeing as how he was supposed to be writing, – a fact that Gina made sure to pester him about right since he first arrived at the Hamptons (Honestly, she didn't even allow him to relax in peace even for one day, without starting her tirade about how he should be writing every single second. He, of course, did relax. She isn't the boss of him. Or so he petulantly tried to argue.) – when he was struck with an idea for a book; he had to get it down. It had come to him while he was staring at her name on his phone. Not even here and she was more effective than when Gina would try to force him to sit in front of her and write – why she ever tried that he never understood. It hadn't ever worked - not even once.

Now on the fifth day – almost at the end of it, really – his exercise of the past four days seemed to have come to a head. He picked up the phone with a purpose, his thumb furiously, and quickly typing out her name (He knew her number by rote, but the act of typing out her name made him happy. Everything about her made him happy, when it didn't make him pathetically miserable.), he finally pressed dial and held his breath as he held the phone to his ear.

It rang.

He wondered what she must be doing. It was late in the evening after all. She could have been having dinner – alone he hoped, though he knew it was petty of him to think it – could be watching tv (A likely story. Not.), could be at the precinct doing that thing she does.

It rang.

After the first three rings, he wondered if he should hang up. If she were going to pick it up, surely she would have done by now. What if she really wasn't alone? Or maybe she really was busy. Or – and he sincerely hoped he was wrong – maybe she didn't _want_ to hear from him. Maybe four days ago, he was right…

Leave a message, or hang up? Leave a message, or…

"_Beckett,_" came a breathless sounded greeting.

Never would he have pegged himself the sentimental kind, and so he dismissed the thud in his heart as inconveniently timed heart burn from the lasagna he'd eaten for dinner. It certainly wasn't a skipped beat, or a super excited one, just from the sound of her voice. Nope.

"_Hello?"_

"Beckett. Hi. It's me. Uh.. Castle."

"_Oh…"_

* * *

It had been fourteen days since she'd _not_ had her heart broken. Her heart wasn't broken because Kate Beckett is a woman of steel. A woman who knows better than to put her heart on the line in the first place. Her every move is precise – always governed by thought and calculation. Practicality trumps sentimentality. Only – it doesn't.

Fourteen days since she'd broken up a potentially good relationship. Demming was a good guy. Smart – had to be since he was a detective in robbery who'd at his young age, made a name for himself, just like her. Handsome – he had a charming smile, no question about it. Strong – something she'd experienced firsthand thanks to their little combat session carried out in the name of distraction. Good – that was evident from the way he spent his time outside work, and the way he spent it when he was at work. His biggest fault – and he'd never know this – was that though he was all these things, there was something he wasn't. Castle.

The first week had been kind of difficult. Even for her. Schooling her face and not talking about it worked well enough for her, if only the others would leave her alone. She didn't miss the looks of pity, and genuine sadness, sympathy and even empathy that were cast her way. But she wanted to. She wanted it all to stop. Just go back to work. Go back to the way things were. Was it that much to ask? Just – go back to the way things were before … But she couldn't even think that. Not even as angry, or betrayed as she felt. She couldn't complete that thought. So those first seven days, she gritted her teeth, took deep breaths, blinked hard and moved on. Of course, sometimes she'd stare people down with her steely gaze, just because she could. It felt empowering, though she knew it was mean. Payback. No one pities Beckett and gets away with it.

In the second week, people moved on, the way they do. A person can only care so much about another – whom they know as a friend, or colleague – to think about them for so long. They get back to their lives, everything forgotten until the moment it's not. People move on. Ryan and Esposito probably didn't forget. But they were her boys. They knew how she functioned. They knew the less said, the better she would get. Even Montgomery didn't mention any of it. They'd all been there in one of the rare moments where she couldn't mask her features for the world to see an illusion. They'd all been there – Lanie, too – and that's why they knew all the more, not to bring it up. Not to let it fester, but to let it fade. She didn't need to be reminded of anything. She had a strong mind. At a young age, Kate had learnt to let that very strong mind form a barrier for her heart. A wall, if you must. To protect what needs protecting, what had already been battered once by taking away a big chunk of it. Her wall stood strong, a barricade from all things potentially dangerous.

The problem with walls without doors? It's simply a barricade. No exit. No entry.

On the fourteenth day, she wasn't thinking about him at all. Lewis Mitchell – she was sure – had been the one to murder the three girls whose crime scene photographs she was staring at. The how and where of it had eluded them so far. Studying it long enough, approaching it methodically could provide a break in the case, she knew. The bullpen was nearly empty save for a couple of detectives in a whole different part than her; and then there she was, determined to break this case.

The silence had long since settled around her, giving her that extra bit of concentration, allowing her to think in peace, and to focus. And so she'd been startled enough to knock her phone to the ground when the call broke through her reverie; somehow making its way under her desk causing her to kneel down to retrieve it, with one hand over her pounding heart. It probably wasn't a good idea to leave it at that volume in such a tranquil setting. Finally collecting it, and herself, she answered without looking, hoping that whoever was calling wouldn't cut the line in the time it took her to do so.

"Beckett," came her prompt, slightly breathless reply as she went to right herself.

She was greeted by silence, though she gave it a second, wondering two things – One, whether her phone was working properly because it did just fall on to the hard floor. And two, whether the caller had cut the phone just as she had answered it, and if they did, she hoped her phone was undamaged enough to tell her who the call was from. One try and she'd hang up after it. Let caller id work its magic.

"Hello?" she asked.

The reply – that by now she wasn't expecting – was something that she certainly wasn't expecting.

"_Beckett. Hi. It's me. Uh.. Castle._"

Soundlessly she opened her mouth and closed it again, not knowing exactly what to say. Not knowing exactly how to breathe.

"Oh…" she said finally. Not the most intelligent reply, but, pretty much the only one in her mind as it took its time to reboot.

It helped though, that he didn't seem to be doing all too better at his end either. "_How are you?"_ he said haltingly, and she could almost imagine him chastising himself. She could imagine that he'd be holding his fist to his forehead, mouthing the words to himself again, mocking himself.

She almost laughed. She definitely smiled. And in that moment, she forgot to be angry, not that it wasn't awkward instead.

"I – Hi, Castle. Umm.. Is – is there something you needed?" She was skipping over the pleasantries though, in favor of finding out why she was getting this call.

"_No. No, nothing like that. I just – I wanted to call you. See how you're doing. You know, what with me not there to lend my expertise in several areas of your investigation –_"

She bit her lip to hold her laughter and then interrupted him, her voice coming out stronger, more confident with the familiarity of banter. "You mean now that you're far enough away that you can't go around interrupting me every second with your childish background commentary."

"_Ouch, Beckett. That stung_," he said, and she could almost hear the pout.

On the other side of the line, Castle's face finally lit up with a eye-crinkling smile for the first time in days, when he heard the beautiful sound of her laughter. The single 'hah' ought not to have so much power over him.

Abruptly, though, she remembered to be angry again. "What do you want, Castle? If you're calling because you're bored, you can try someone else…"

"_No!_" came his urgent reply. "_I just called to ask how you're doing. Really. No ulterior motive, detective, I promise. I'm not bored – well – not too bored anyway. Still writing, you know. It's actually going really well – the book, I mean. I've been writing day and night. The words have been pouring out, and I've been sticking Nikki into these awesome situations and getting her out of them, with Rook's help, of course._" Castle was talking so fast that she couldn't get a word in. "_Not that she needs it, 'cause she's totally badass, just like you. But he's there for her anyway._"

When he finally stopped, possibly to catch his breath, she almost smiled again, having listened to his rambling. Having heard what he was, and wasn't saying. Almost smiled again, but she caught herself. "I'm sure Gina's doing a great job keeping you in line."

"_Pfft. She's not the boss of me_," he said, sounding completely unconvinced himself. "_But if I stop, she'll come back here, and I'd like to avoid that if I can._"

"Back wherever you're hiding in the house right now? You better go back if you're that…"

"_No, no. I mean, back to the Hamptons. I am completely safe right now," _came his swift interruption_._ As an afterthought, he added,_ "And I don't need to hide. It's my house._"

That stopped her cold. Because, wait, what?

"Aren't you – wasn't she coming with you? I was under the impression that you were going together." For work and pleasure, she completed in her mind.

"_She did come with me, as my blood sucking publisher. She stayed for five whole days before I could finally convince her that I really was going to work on the book, and that I'd need some peace to do it._"

Kate chuckled; feeling for the world like a burden had been lifted. Not that she cared or anything. Not at all. She hadn't put her heart on the line. "Really, Castle. You wanted to be left alone to do your work in peace? I can't imagine anyone _ever _wanting _that._"

He sounded mildly affronted, "_Hey! At least I'm useful to you. All Gina was doing was riling me up. I had to delete a whole petty argument I wrote between Rook and Nikki, after I had Gina give me yet another lecture on how I ought to be writing _all_ the time. Give a man some room to breathe, jeez!_"

She laughed at that. "Okay, okay. Calm down, big guy. How are Alexis and Martha?"

His voice changed completely from sounding irritated to sounding affectionate in less than a second. "_They're well. Thanks for asking. Uh.._"

"Yeah?"

"_How's uh – how are things at your end? How's…"_ she heard him pause and take a breath before finishing, _"Demming?"_

Taking a quiet breath herself, she tried to figure out how she felt about his question. He'd cared enough to ask, though it obviously made him uncomfortable. He clearly made an effort to keep his tone neutral. She couldn't judge if he was just trying to extract information – though it sounded from his hesitancy that he might not even want to know the answer. That's why she gave it to him, honestly. "I wouldn't know," she replied softly.

He paused for a beat, digesting what he just heard. _"Oh. Uh – I'm sorry. Did – did you guys fight? You want to talk about it?"_ He asked just as softly.

This time there was no masking the genuine concern in his voice, and it made her smile. "No. It was amicable. Nothing to talk about really."

"_Okay. Good. Okay. But, uh, if you ever do need to talk, I'm here."_

Even biting her lip couldn't help contain her smile. She was sure he could hear it, too. "Thanks, Castle. I'll keep that in mind." Just then the phone on her desk started ringing. She wondered who it could be, seeing as how it was late. People had learnt to expect her to be there, though, so she wasn't exactly surprised. And it could be about the case. Reluctantly, she knew, she had to let him go for now. "Listen, I have to go. Might be a lead," she said.

"_Oh. Okay, sure_," he said hurriedly, "_Can I call you again, Kate?_"

So he did pick up on her initial anger. Did he just call her _Kate?_ Why didn't she mind?

"Would you listen if I said no?" she joked.

He paused again.

"Castle?"

"_Whatever you say, Kate," _he said softly, and she knew he was being uncharacteristically serious.

"Until tomorrow, Castle."

There was no mistaking the relief in his voice. "Until tomorrow, Beckett."

* * *

Making the call might just have been one of the best decisions of his life, he thought, as he stared at his phone again like he had been for the past five days. Longer than that, if he were to admit the truth. This time, it wasn't full of sadness, emptiness and longing. He placed it next to his laptop, and for the next several hours of the night, his fingers were flying over the keys with a renewed purpose, ideas running a mile a minute in his mind. He paused, just for a second, looked back at his phone gleefully with the thought that she'd break his legs if he'd call her a muse when he planned to call her the next day.

* * *

**A/N: ** That's that. I've always felt that a lot of her anger in the S3 premier was because he didn't bother keeping in touch. That's why I thought about this 'what if' scenario. Honestly don't know if this particular combination of events has been written in ff before, but I hope you liked it. I don't know if I'll be continuing it. What do you guys think? Should I?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for all the love you showed for the first chapter. Ask, and you shall receive. Here's chapter 2.

* * *

Chapter 2

Castle made the call during lunch time the next day after that first phone call, hoping that she would be on a break and free enough to chat with him for a couple of minutes. This, of course, was a rationalization of the whole episode, the truth behind this early venture being his inability to stay away from her now that he knew he didn't have to.

When she picked up the call, she was out of breath. The reason, as she explained it, was that the team had just caught a break, and she was making her way to her Crown Vic. She dismissed his apologies sharply and told him she'd call back at a better time.

He knew that she hadn't meant the words to be harsh, but he couldn't squelch the feeling of disappointment that coursed through him; feeling glad at least, that she couldn't see it all over his features. The minute she'd heard his 'okay', she cut the call.

That had been hours ago. Seated on his chair that he was balancing precariously on its hind legs, he was stoically avoiding counting the minutes – though he had no target time, which made it that much more pathetic – and failing miserably. It came to the point that he was challenging himself to keep from glancing at his wall mounted clock, each time being longer than the last. Clearly he was a master procrastinator.

In the immediate hours that followed the call, he had resigned himself to hashing out more chapters of the second Nikki Heat book – he hadn't yet named it, though he did have a few scandalous ideas in mind – but there was a limit to how productive Castle could get before he felt the inherent need to annoy another human being.

Annoying Kate at this juncture was not a mistake he intended to consciously commit. Calling her was out of the question. Unfortunately, his back-up annoyable people were busy today, too. Alexis had been studying for extra credit. Martha was going to be out in the theatre with her obnoxious theatre-critic friend – and by friend she meant crazy person – and by crazy person, he understood she meant bitch. His mother was classy enough for him to know that she wouldn't think what she meant, or mean what she thinks. His mind, it seemed, was turning the evil forces of boredom on itself, and annoying him with convoluted thoughts.

He sighed, knowing that it was either this – being ruthlessly tortured by the superpower of his own mind – or making it stop by doing the one thing that he wanted to avoid at all costs. She said that she would call. He just wished that she'd given him a specific time. Actually, he wasn't even that picky. She could have just given him a vague time - something along the lines of 'I'll call you in a couple of hours, Castle', or 'I'll call you tomorrow, Castle', or even 'I'll call something in the first half of this decade, Castle.' Was that too much to ask? Was it? He sighed again, knowing that it was.

Thankfully he was rendered free from further strange musings by the piercing tone of his cell as it tore through the silence of his quiet Hamptons home. It wasn't the brightest of ideas to leave it on so loud at home, but he wanted to make sure that he didn't miss any important calls (calls from Kate Beckett and/or Alexis). It was an even stupider move to have been so enthusiastic in answering it that his chair suddenly tilted forward, and he stupidly overcompensated and fell all the way back – chair, cell phone in hand, and all. Somehow he even managed to answer it during his less than graceful, yet strangely acrobatic fall to the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

She must have heard the noise, though muffled, because she sounded genuinely concerned on the phone.

"Ouch," Castle rasped as the breath had been knocked out of him.

"Castle?" she started worriedly, "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Heeeey Beckett," he greeted enthusiastically, "Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, and dandy. I was just … doing research."

"Sure you were," she said disbelievingly.

"You don't believe me?"

"Give me a good reason."

"Research is a good reason. It's a fantastic reason. It is, in fact, a stellar reason."

"And what exactly was the subject of your research today?"

His reply was quick, "The direction to fall in, out of the desk chair, in a manner to best avoid being seriously injured. For when Nikki jumps Rook like a wild cat on its prey, because she's so taken by the image of him slaving away, writing what could possibly be a Pulitzer-worthy article; that she has to have him there and then, quick and dirty."

He was greeted by silence.

"Kate?"

And then came the uproarious laughter which made him think that falling to the ground and narrowly escaping serious head injury was worth the trouble, and he'd do it again in a second if this was the reward.

"Castle," she gasped, "That is the most ridiculous load of crap you have ever tried to sell me."

"Really? Are you counting my government conspiracy theories, secret spy missions to save the world, alien abductions and Italian mobster family feud ideas?"

She laughed some more at that. "Okay, in that case, it's a strong contender."

"Face it, Beckett. You're only laughing because the ideas are _so_ ridiculous – as you put it. I happen to think they are an excellent example of the products of a brilliant– "

"Deranged," she interrupted, and he ignored.

"- mind. They are in fact, so ridiculous that they have the potential of being _true!_" he finished.

"That makes no sense."

"It makes so little sense, that it has the potential of being true!" he said.

Now, he couldn't see her, but he could picture with ninety percent certainty, the adorable way she rolled her eyes at him. He also thought about how she'd appreciate his efforts of holding back his lovesick sigh. He was being so well behaved today, and she wasn't even around to properly appreciate it.

"But never you mind about the details, my dear detective. Tell me, what have you been up to all day? Did you succeed in doing that one hot, wild, kinky thing you love to do?" he spoke in a low, suggestive voice.

She gasped, and managed to choke on nothing. "What?" she asked, confused, and – it sounded like she was blushing. He liked that he could imagine what she looked like just by hearing her voice.

"You're the one who told me about it, detective. I'm surprised you've forgotten, though admittedly, it has been a while."

"What are you talking about, Castle?" This time, he imagined that cute little furrow in her brow.

"Putting killers behind bars," he said to put her out of her misery. "Did you arrest someone today, Beckett?"

She was stuck between being oddly touched that he'd remembered her words, almost verbatim; and being annoyed at how childish he could get. Instead of choosing between the two, she opted to move on and answer his question. "We did. It was Lewis Mitchell."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. We were almost completely sure about that for days, but we couldn't find evidence to tie him to the three victims. Today, though, we found an oddity in the financials of all three vics, and once we traced it back to him, everything else fell into place."

"Good work, Beckett. Glad to know that I no longer need to feel guilty about leaving you guys for the summer, without my input speeding things along considerably. Keep that up and you won't even need me back there."

"Hah."

"And I'm so very touched that you're not bothering to refute that," he said flatly. "Is it so hard for you to say something like, 'Oh, Castle. Don't say such absurd things. Of course we need you.'" he said in a mocking, high pitch; sounding dreamy, and completely unlike Kate Beckett from any realms of reality.

She actually snorted. "We don't need you, Castle. Well, I suppose I can't speak for the boys. They have been looking longingly at your chair. But I certainly don't."

"Hmm. I'll be sure to bring them back something good. You, on the other hand, don't need me," he huffed.

Though he joked about it, she could hear the hurt and uncertainty in his voice. Strangely, she was not okay with that. She didn't want him to feel unappreciated. Because he wasn't. She did appreciate him.

"I don't need you, Castle. I've been doing this job long before you entered my life. But – "

"But?" he repeated hopefully.

"But it's like I've already told you, Castle. I like having you here. You make things fun. The darkness is a little less dark when you're around," she said softly.

"Kate," he said in awe.

It was a little awkward – the serious turn that this conversation had taken – and it made her slightly uncomfortable. So she fell back on what was familiar, and comfortable – banter. "And you buy me coffee. The good stuff. You can't get a girl hooked and then disappear on her, Castle."

He gave an appreciative chuckle. "Don't worry, Kate. I see it as a mission in life to keep you well caffeinated. It's part self-preservation and part sheer heroism to save the world from the possibility of an enraged, decaf – Kate. I'm doing the world a favor."

"You're such a saint," she said, with an eye roll that he wouldn't see.

"Why, thank you, Kate. I'm glad you at least appreciate my skills as your personal coffee-slave," he said, sounding sincere.

She had to laugh. She'd laughed more in these two days, than in the last two weeks combined.

"I should go. Need to catch up on sleep."

"Yeah. Sure," he said softly. "Get some rest, Kate. We'll talk later."

"You getting some writing done?" she asked, sounding reluctant to end the call, though she was the one to bring it up. He could hear some rustling in the background and imagined that she was tucking herself in. She'd been working hard, and here he was, keeping her up just because he was bored, and he wanted to hear her voice. He was also pleased that she was prolonging the conversation, even if just by a bit.

"Yeah. Plenty. I'm feeling inspired."

"That's good," she said, sounding tired.

"Sleep, Kate," he whispered. "Until next time."

"Night, Castle. Till tomorrow," she slurred out before cutting the call.

With his eyes closed, he brought his phone – which was emanating warmth, much like the sort that seemed to fill his heart – to his forehead, and allowed the small smile that was playing on his lips spill wider till it lit up his whole face.

* * *

**A/N: **Ummm… So this was basically nothing but fluff. Should I be sorry? :P I'm not entirely sure.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Castle had called the next day, but Kate hadn't answered. Thinking about how things were going well between them so far, he assumed it was because she might have been busy with a new case. He considered calling the boys instead, but thought better of it. If he was to call them, it should be to talk to them; not to spy on her, however tempting the idea might be. He owed them and their friendship that. Besides, he could pass of calling Kate almost on a daily bases as an infatuation that everyone seemed to believe it was anyway; but he'd rather not have them saying the same about him persistently pestering Ryan and Esposito. _Bro codes_ existed for a reason.

That being said, it had been three days since they'd last spoken. It was starting to worry him. He knew that she wasn't seeing Demming, but who's to say that meant she wasn't seeing someone else? He couldn't just assume that just because she hadn't told him one way or the other. Knowing her need for privacy, the possibility had to be taken under consideration. He would try to be happy for her, however bruised and battered his heart may feel as a result. That's what you do for the people you…care about.

Another possibility – one that scared him far, far more – was that she _couldn't_ call him. That somehow, she might have been injured in the line of duty. With that thought in mind he decided, bro code or not, he would call Esposito or Ryan if he didn't hear from her soon. Heck, he'd even call Lanie if it came down to that.

At this point, he acknowledged that he might be going a little stir crazy. He tried instead to focus on writing again - that or related activities. Those kept him entertained as well. After all, it had been just three days. He could go without hearing from her for three days. But Beckett is a woman of her word. Someone who takes everything she says seriously. If she didn't mean it, she wouldn't say it – however sleepy she may have been at the time. And so his state of mind went through a spectrum of anxiety, calm, depression, belief (in her), hope, dread, and back again. That one woman could make him go through this much without even being his significant other (yet, his mind supplied) left him with yet another emotion – awe.

He pondered this and many other things as he indulged in what he realized to be vigorous exercise – that is until he heard his phone ring loudly from the kitchen, and then he was rushing in that direction as fast as he possibly could; just _knowing_ it was her. It had to be her. It was.

"Hey, Castle," came a tired voice.

His heart clenched from the mix of feelings – on the one hand, he felt the immense need stirring in him to just engulf her in his arms, and on the other, he was plain elated to know that she was okay.

"Hey," he replied, gulping a few breaths.

"Uh. Is this a bad time? I can call again later." He hated that she sounded so uncertain, on top of her exhaustion. Whatever she was worried about when it came to him, he wanted to assure her that it was unnecessary.

"No!" he shouted into the phone. "No. Now is a good time. It's a great time. You might in fact have _such_ impeccable timing, that you may have saved me from cardiac arrest!"

He was rewarded by a tired chuckle, and oh, did he think it was the most heavenly sound right about now. "Really, Castle? What were you up to?"

He hummed, still out of breath and wiped the sweat from his face as he hopped over to the counter where his scissors were kept. "Just let me catch my breath, Beckett, before you go around stealing it again," he paused, hearing the hitch in _her_ breathing before going on relentlessly, "Till then, how 'bout telling me what you've been up to these last couple of days?"

She hummed. It sounded like she was weighing her options, before she exhaled audibly and set to tell him about her day. "We caught a difficult one. Just closed it today, actually."

"Tell me about it?"

She took another deep breath. He felt bad about making her relive it when she was obviously taking it hard. But he couldn't possibly know how to help without knowing what for, and more importantly, there may have been a chance that just talking about it could help. He decided to push.

"A man was found murdered in his home, surrounded by empty liquor bottles. He'd been an alcoholic for three years, ever since he lost his wife to a hit and run case that was let off on some technicality. His whole family took it hard," her voice trembled.

"Oh, Kate," he said softly, closing his eyes.

As if she couldn't stop, as if she needed to portray strength, she forged ahead. "We found the killer. His son seemed determined to believe that the hit and run accused went free because his drunk father messed up the testimony."

"He didn't hit the bottle until after that happened though…"

"Yeah. But the son wasn't listening to reason, Castle. He was _so_ consumed by rage."

"He needed someone to pay."

"Yeah," she repeated.

"Kate, it's not the same."

"He fell down the rabbit hole, Castle. I know what that's like."

"It's not the same," he repeated. He'd repeat it as many times as needed.

"Isn't it?"

"No," he said confidently, resolutely. "You, Kate…you brought your father out of the bottle. Habits are hard enough to break, bad habits even harder, and bad habits that have a dark reason behind them – the hardest. You did that, Kate. The life you saved. Every day you wake up and do a difficult job, not only to the best of your ability, but you're most certainly one of the best because of that very reason – you give it your all; serving justice to others though it's eluded you. And it's not fair, Kate, but you do it anyway. You might have fallen down the rabbit hole, but you recognized that, and not only did you get yourself out of it, but you made sure to take care of those you loved. For all those reasons, and so many more, you are an _amazing_ person."

He heard the sob that she tried to hide. "Castle," she said shakily, but he was having none of it.

"No, I'm not done. I'll never be done. It would take more than a series of books to show the world just a fraction of the amazing person you are," he said, and then added softly, "You are _the _most extraordinary person I know, and it is an honor to shadow you."

Softly, and evenly, she whispered, "Thank you, Rick."

"Always," he replied.

He heard another deep breath, one that sounded strong, like she was bracing herself, mentally and physically with the power of his words guiding her. Sounding more even than she had so far, she said, "Tell me about _your_ day now?"

"Ah, well, before you called, I was doing research."

She chuckled. "Really, Castle? Again with the research?"

"Hey! That's what I'm out here for, aren't I? It's all legitimate research for my book. That I'm basing off of you, but here I am, doing all the hard work."

This time she snorted, and he almost puffed his chest with pride. "Uh huh. What was it this time?"

"Well…" Castle said, sounding faintly embarrassed, "I wouldn't want to spoil you," he mumbled.

"Tell me, or I will hurt you."

"You're all the way in New York city," he said with a laugh.

Silence.

"Kate?"

More silence.

"Beckett?"

And some more silence.

"For the love of all things holy! How do you _do_ that? I can almost feel your eyebrow having gone up. Did you physically turn towards the Hamptons? Because I can feel your glare being directed at me." He shuddered. He wasn't even kidding.

"Are you gonna tell me?"

"Fine," he huffed. "I was seeing how much time it would take to reach from one end of my house to the other."

"O-kay. How long have you been going at it?" she asked, sounding curious.

"Eh," he shrugged though she couldn't see it, "Just under an hour."

"Wow, Castle, you should really start exercising more if that's got you so out of breath. Really, if you expect to keep up with me," she said and when she heard the growl he couldn't seem to contain, she was glad that he couldn't see the blush that crept up all over her face. "At work. I meant, at work," she added weakly.

"I'm sure you did," he said in a husky voice, before clearing his throat, and then in a low voice, he muttered something so quickly that she wasn't able to catch it.

"Say that again, Castle, and this time _slowly_, and in a pitch meant for human ears."

"I said," he huffed, "That I was hopping, because my ankles are bound by zip ties."

The resulting laughter lit his every cell on fire, and he couldn't hold his petulant pout – not that she could see it anyway.

"God, Castle," she said, gasping for air. He chastised himself for immediately imagining different scenarios where she would say that in a similar tone, but for far different reasons. "You're crazy."

"Hmph. Well, I wouldn't be having such a tough time if there was someone around to help me with the research, you know."

"Uh huh. So not only do you expect me to do my real job, but now you want me to do yours as well?"

"I'm just saying, Beckett, that you could help fulfill your musely duties –"

"That's not even a word."

"And who knows? You might even have fun – "

"I seriously doubt it."

"- we could even take turns tying each other up."

That got her to shut up good, he thought with a smug grin. He forgot sometimes that she was a mystery, but not too often, because like now, she often reminded him.

"Hmm. Maybe next time, Castle."

She laughed when she heard him gulp loudly in response.

"God, you're easy. I'm going to let you go now."

"Nooooooo," he whined. "You can't just – and then you – but – Why, you evil tease, why?"

That got her to laugh again, and he felt like he was made of win tonight.

"Seriously, Castle. My place is a mess, there's no food in the house – "

"You've got a takeout _shrine_ in that fridge of yours, Beckett."

"I'm running out of clean clothes, not to mention I would love to have a nice, long bath right now."

He enunciated, "Evil. Tease."

Gifting him with yet another chuckle, she added softly, "I really better go; get things in order while I'm still able to stay awake."

"Kay. Have a good night, Kate."

"You ensured it. Thank you, Castle," she said in a voice that made his heart melt.

"Anything for you, Beckett. Even the truth, especially the truth."

"I know."

"Good night," he repeated.

"You too."

"You ensured it."

**A/N:** Thank you all again for your responses. I appreciate it all, even the ones I can't reply to. Your encouragement means a lot to me. Hope you've enjoyed this one as well. Until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

It so happened, by an unspoken agreement that Kate and Castle took turns making the calls to each other. He could take or make calls at anytime of course, but Kate had a busy schedule to maintain – and one that wasn't fixed, at that. So they didn't land up talking every single day, but no three days went by without one of them calling the other.

On the one hand it seemed like it was taking forever for him to come back to New York City – back to New York City's finest. On the other hand, time seemed to be going much faster now that he had something to look forward to everyday. Though the calls weren't a daily occurrence, the anticipation never dwindled – not once they'd both realized that neither was going to abandon this thing they had going – this little commitment.

Whenever he would call, wherever she was, just seeing his name light up the tiny screen would make a smile light up her face. Sometimes the memories of the last call would linger into the next morning, and she'd carry that with her into the precinct. She'd caught Ryan and Esposito giving her odd looks once or twice, but they never brought anything up. Until that one day when the buggers couldn't stay out of her business. She couldn't even find herself to mind, because – well, isn't that what kids do? It's nothing that's meant to be malicious, just a plain, natural curiosity. Especially when it comes to mom and dad, right? That thought made her chuckle and made Ryan and Esposito look at her wide-eyed, have a mini whispered conference and tell her that they'd understand if she needed a little time off, bless them. She just shook her head, looking amused, and walked away. But not before ruffling Ryan's hair – causing him to look alarmed, and indignant, and Esposito to grunt at her, but snicker at Ryan's face.

A couple of days later, she was using Castle's precinct coffee machine to make her coffee, and while leaning on the counter waiting for it to get done, she remembered their latest conversation from the night before. It inevitably led her to smile – though subconsciously she bit her lower lip, in a vain attempt to keep it at bay – a fact that the boys noticed as they'd just stepped into the break room themselves. She hadn't even noticed them. But they'd noticed her, and they noticed the way she was turning her cell in her hand occasionally pausing to let her thumb hover over the call button.

Esposito and Ryan exchanged a significant look. They'd decided to get to the bottom of it, and a distracted, dare they say, _dreamy_ Beckett provided the perfect opportunity. Esposito was going to get her attention by grunting, or starting a nonsensical conversation with Ryan, but Ryan beat him to the punch. Unfortunately he wasn't a very believable actor; he coughed, sounding like he was going to hack his lungs out. Esposito fought the urge to sock him for his lack of subtlety.

Though, points to Ryan, Beckett did turn towards them, looking confused and concerned. "You okay, Kev?"

"What, me? Oh, fine, fine, Beckett. But the real question is, are you?" he asked.

She lost the concern, but still looked thoroughly confused. "Am I what?"

Esposito cleared his throat and said, "What he means, Beckett, is that we're concerned about you. You're … different somehow, and we'd like to know why."

"What are you guys talking about? If anyone should be concerned, it should be me. Are you guys up to something?" she said suspiciously.

"No. But are you?" Esposito asked with his eyes narrowed.

She rolled her eyes. "Why would _I_ be up to anything? I was just waiting for my coffee to get done, so I can enjoy my break in peace. I don't get why that seems unusual to you two."

"Not unusual to see you waiting for coffee…" Ryan started.

"But looking at the coffee machine with a smile on your face –" Esposito said.

Ryan pitched in, "While twirling your hair with one hand and your phone with the other –"

"And it's not the coffee machine that's making you blush, Beckett."

"Yep. So fess up. New guy?" Ryan asked eagerly.

"New girl? You know we won't judge," Esposito said with a smirk.

"Ugh," she replied, because what else _could_ she say? It was probably true, but she wasn't about to dish that her reason for blushing had been something Castle said that was blush-worthy. She collected her cup, and started walking out, while grumbling something about not having a modicum of privacy in the place.

But still she had a smile on her face. The boys folded their arms over their chest and watched her closely.

"Something is definitely up," Espo said.

"I wonder if it has something to do with Castle."

"Dude, don't even bring his name up. What is the matter with you?"

"No, come on, Javi. Think about it, who makes our girl smile like that?" he asked softly, with a small smile of his own.

"Demming made her smile."

"Like that?"

"No," Esposito conceded. "No, that's only ever been Castle's doing."

"We'll keep working on her, figure it out. Until then, we can try calling Castle, too," Ryan said, earning himself a clap to the back.

"Good idea, bro. Of the two, he's the one who'll break easily."

Just as they agreed on that, Beckett motioned them over to the murder board. Their investigation would have to wait.

* * *

Castle had killed of Derrick Storm because he felt like the time had come to give him up. To go for something less predictable, more fun to write – more inspiring. Right now, there was no dearth of inspiration. Day in and day out, his fingers were flying over the keys. The ideas kept coming, each was better than the previous he felt. If readers thought Heat Wave was good, they were going to be really pleased by Naked Heat. Huh. She was not going to be pleased with the title – but that was something he could tackle some other day.

Every time she would call, they'd either talk about their current case – well, Beckett's current case – and Castle would pitch his ideas that she would, much to his delight, actually consider seriously; or they'd talk about something that had happened on some of their earlier cases. It served to remind him or something or the other that he would incorporate into the book. In addition to that, speaking to her kept the vision of Nikki so alive and vivid in his head that he had no difficulty getting into her skin – now there's a thought – and writing her characterizations, her mannerisms. Nikki isn't Beckett, but parts of her are. All of it was made easier with their conversations.

He'd just spoken to her yesterday. As it so happened, for the past week, they didn't talk every day, and so he wasn't expecting her call today. He needed a break from writing, and since he'd already bugged her yesterday – almost to the point where she got annoyed instead of amused – he decided not to subject her to a call; instead opting to have dinner at his neighbors' place as they'd been inviting him for the past couple of weeks.

He was having a good time, letting loose. His neighbors, Jess and Paul, were a few years his senior, and their son Troy were great company. Jess had cooked a delicious Italian dinner, and Paul kept all of them supplied with great quality wine. Castle had maybe had a few too many glasses. Troy as well, and his parents didn't object because he was home, and safe, and heartbroken - and an adult.

Castle sighed, and clapped Troy on the back. "Don't give up, Troy, you'll find a good, good girl out there, and you'll just know she's _meant_ for you."

"Speaking from experience, man?" said Troy.

"Yes. No. Maybe," Castle said.

"You're twice my age, and even _you're _confused," Troy whined.

"Didn't say it gets less confusing," he grunted, "Heck, I've never been more confused in my life. She's confusing."

"Who's confusing?"

"All of them. Their whole species, but that's not the point. The point is; it doesn't get less hopeful either. You've got to stay hopeful."

Jess and Paul watched on in amusement as Castle and Troy started singing songs of love, and hope, and all things sappy. They'd seen Castle a little tipsy at parties before, but never quite this drunk, let alone seeing their heartbroken, also drunk boy being schooled by him.

Jess excused herself when she heard a noise from the kitchen. Castle had forgotten his phone there while helping her earlier and it was ringing. She tried to get his attention, but he and Troy were really into whatever 'current' song they were singing about a baby. All the 'oooo'-ing just sounded obnoxious to her frankly.

When the ringing started again, she picked up the phone and moved to a quiet corner, "Hi, Richard can't come to the phone right now, can I take a message?"

* * *

Beckett felt a surge of jealousy rippling through her. She ignored it for what it was, opting instead to chalk it off as anger at him not letting her know that he'd be out. If Richard couldn't come to the phone, well – too bad for him.

"_Hello?_" the voice called out.

"Uh. No. It's nothing important."

"_You called twice, darling._"

Huh. "Yeah – I – didn't realize he had company."

"_Oh, I see. Did he forget you were going to call?_"

It sounded more like sympathy than goading. "I guess," Kate said uncertainly, "I didn't tell him I was going to call today, so I suppose he wouldn't have felt the need to tell me. Not that it matters, he doesn't tell me everything." She didn't even know why she was justifying it, just that she was. "Look, – could you tell him Kate called?"

"_Kate! _The_ Kate_?" the woman said excitedly. And why was she 'the' anything?

"I guess?"

The lady on the phone chuckled. "_He's been going on about you all night._"

"Oh no," Kate let slip, causing her to laugh again. "How many people are around exactly?" she asked warily.

"_Ah, just the three of us – my husband, Paul; son, Troy and myself – I'm Jess, by the way. It's nice to finally talk to you. I've heard so much. Actually, I've heard most of it tonight._"

"Thanks," Kate said with a blush, and no small amount of relief. Husband and son – good. Then again, Castle talking about her - ? And what on earth – was that _him_ singing Justin Bieber's song in the background? "Jess, is Castle drunk?"

"_Yep,_" came Jess' hearty reply. "_He's holding the tune pretty well, don't you think? I can't quite say the same for Troy, but he's never been much of a singer._"

"Oh. Okay, wow." Kate had to hold back her laughter. She was so going to rub this in his face.

"_Hold on, I'll tell him you're on the line,_" Jess said and started yelling for Castle's attention.

"No! No, wait, there's no need for –", Kate tried to say but her pleas went unheard.

"_Richard! Richard! Your muse is the phone._"

Kate winced.

"_Shhhhhhhhh! Jess, don't call her that,_" Castle was whispering frantically, and so loudly that she could hear it well and clear, causing her to roll her eyes. "_She'll break my legs._"

"_Dude, you're scared of a girl?_", she heard an unfamiliar voice say before it broke off into a giggle.

"_Pfft. Nuh-uh_," Castle said, sounding like a little boy, followed by a beat of silence. "_Okay, maybe I am. But you'd be scared of her, too._"

"_Hah! I am not scared of _girls_,_" scoffed the voice.

"_Troy, Troy, Troy; you have much to learn. You _should_ be scared of girls. Girls are _scaaaaary_._"

"_Hey!_" Jess said, sounding affronted, "_Stop feeding my son that._"

"_Well, honey, I've got to agree with Rick on that front,_" she assumed Paul said.

Listening from this end of the line was pretty amusing, and evidently they had forgotten she was on.

"_She the one who has you confused, Mr.C?_" said Troy.

"_Yeeeah,_" Castle sighed happily. "_I'm still peeling the onion._"

Kate smiled. She confused him?

"_Gah!", _yelled Troy, sounding indignant, _ "You're peeling onions around your girl? No girl wants you peeling onions! What's the matter with you?_"

She had to laugh at the boy, who was clearly drunk. Wait. 'Your girl'?

"_What? No, no, no. Not real onions, figurative onions._"

"_You're peeling figurative onions?_"

"_Yes! Exactly! Glad you understand._"

"_I don't think I do._"

"_That's okay, she does._"

"_And that's something she wants?_"

"_I have no idea. She doesn't object to it, I guess?_"

"_Why don't you ask her?_"

"_Well, I don't know. She's usually pretty vocal about what she wants._"

"_Ewwww, dude. T. M. I._"

"_What?_" Castle squeaked. "_Not like _that_._"

"_Troy, wash your mouth,"_ she heard Jess' voice saying, "_And Richard, take the phone._"

"_She's going to kill me. I can feel it in my bones," _he said.

"_She's not going to kill you. She's not even in the Hamptons,_" Jess tried to reason with him, "_And would you get down from my couch, please?_ _You, too, Troy._"

"_Noooo. It doesn't matter. She'll come shoot me in my sleep. Or pull my ear. Or my nose. It's safe up here."_

Kate had to laugh. He was standing on his neighbors couch, singing _Baby_ with their son? She really hoped that Jess or Paul had filmed some of it. She made a mental note to ask.

"_Richard Castle, you get down here this instant, or I will give Kate the address and ask her to come down here to get you off -_ "

"_Haha, that's what she – Owwwww!_"

"- _off my couch. Don't even. Bunch of teenagers,_" she grumbled, "_Sorry about that, dear. He's being a little difficult. Here, I'll hand you over._"

"Thanks, Jess. It was nice talking to you,"

"_You too, dear._"

"_Kate, hi,"_, Castle said softly into the phone.

"Hey, Castle. You having fun?"

"_Yeah._"

"You drunk?"

"_No,_" he drawled.

"Uh huh," she chuckled, "So it's normal for you to stand on people's couches and sing 'Baby'?"

"_Hey, it's a catchy song,_" he justified, "_And you don't have to be jealous, Beckett. I'll come sing it with you, too."_

She laughed. "Don't you dare. I'll poke you."

"_Aha! I told them you can get violent. They don't believe me,"_ he whined.

"Castle!" she yelled, but the laughter in her voice let him know that she was more amused than anything, "Don't go around telling people I'm violent."

"_Don't do this, don't do that. You're _so_ my work wife._"

"I am not."

"_Are, too._"

"Am not."

"_Are so,_" he sang, "_Why, Beckett, you know you like it."_

"In your dreams," she huffed.

"_Always. Also, in my dreams you do some pretty awesome wifey things. _At work_."_

"You're so lucky I'm not there right now."

"_No, I'm not,_" he said, sounding oddly sincere that he had her spinning, "_I'd happily sacrifice my nose. Or ear. I miss you._"

She sighed. "We talk almost every day, Castle."

"_Not the same. You should come down here._"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"_Why not?_" he asked, "_I promise not to sing 'Baby' if you do,_" he said sounding hopeful.

She laughed and changed the topic. Why not? She wasn't sure she was over seeing him leaving with Gina for the Hamptons. She wasn't sure about a lot of things; and coming to the Hamptons – well. "When are you coming back?"

"_Still a while._ _Why, Beckett, you miss me?_" he asked, and she could imagine his smug face. Thankfully he was easy to distract.

"Hmmmmm.. Nope," she joked.

"_You're so mean. No taffy for you."_ She was sure he was pouting, and she remembered again that he was drunk.

"Oh no!" she said, "I love taffy. How, _ever,_ will I survive?"

"_Too bad. None for you."_

"Aww, come on, Castle. Please?"

"_Not the magical words I want to hear."_

"Abracadabra."

"_Nope."_

"Expelliarmus."

"_So hot," _he said, "_but wrong."_

She smiled, not that he'd see it. "Okay, Castle. I might miss you a little," she said softly, as if sharing a secret.

"_Yeah?_" he sounded indecently happy.

"Don't make me take it back."

"_No taksies backsies," he yelled._

She laughed again, "Whatever, Castle. You should get back to them now. And don't get Troy too drunk."

"_Nah. He's okay. Hasn't had half of what I have. And I'm sober enough."_

"Of course you are," she said with an eye roll.

"_Was that sarcasm? Are you being sarcastic?_", he narrowed his eyes.

"Me? _Never!_"

"_Okay. Hey. Wait! Hey!_"

She chuckled. "Good night, Castle."

"_Good night, Kate. Sweet dreams,_" he said softly. "_I'll call you tomorrow._"

"Looking forward to it," she said. Yeah, she was going to rib him about tonight, but she was also really looking forward to just hearing from him, like she had been a lot lately.

"_Me too. Until tomorrow._"

* * *

**A/N: **So… drunk Castle. OOC or not? I hope not. Until next time. Thank you guys for tuning in, and all the lovely reviews you've left me. : )


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Kate was the one to call him again the next morning. She went easy on him – didn't call him at the abnormally early hours that she was used to. A homicide call had gotten her up in the wee hours. There wasn't any need to subject him to that just for the fun of it. Maybe if he was in the city, then yeah, she'd wake him up. She'd want him with her. She _does_ want him with her. That's why, unlike their usual protocol, she called him in the morning when she got back to precinct.

After making sure the boys were busy (Ryan was going through surveillance videos, and Esposito was running financials on three possible leads), she slipped into the break room, closed the blinds and dialed his number. Castle picked up after two rings. The phone must've been on the bed.

"Castle," he rasped out.

"Mm. I know," she replied.

"Shh, Kate, not so loud!" he groaned.

She closed her eyes, and smiled, imagining that he must've been squishing his face into the pillow from the way his voice was muffled. Muffled, and freshly awoken. Raspy, raw and deep.

Unintentionally, her voice was low too.

"You put on quite the performance last night, _baby_."

"I _should_ be offended, but I am so turned on."

She barked out a single ha.

"No, really. I have dreamt about you saying just that so many times. Maybe with less laughter in your voice, but eh – I'll take what I get," he said, causing her to chuckle. "I didn't think you would call."

"And pass up the opportunity to rib you? I don't think so."

"No. That I was expecting. Jess very kindly stuck a post-it to my forehead – and another one I don't know where she placed, but it ended up on my butt – with a short, yet succinct summary of last night's events – your call being the highlight."

Kate smiled, thinking about how the call was the highlight of her day too, not that she'd be telling him that.

"I'm sure," she said instead.

"I should've told you I'd be out."

"You don't have to report in to me, Castle," she said uncomfortably.

He sensed the discomfort in her voice. "Well, you are my work wife."

"We're not at work."

"Notice how you're not denying you're my work-wife."

"Only because I know you won't listen to me anyway."

"You know me so well," he said fondly, and then coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "wife". "Anyway, I should have told you. I mean, what if I went missing in my state of drunkenness? You'd be worried sick!"

"You're right, I would," she said.

"Aww, Beckett. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Because they'd probably find you naked – riding a horse, or drifting around on a boat, or in someone's pool; and I'd have to deal with the press."

"Hmpf. Nothing says I care like 'I don't want to deal with you'."

"And yet, I deal with you every day, Castle. What does that say?" she said, feeling bold.

"I meant it, Kate," he said softly in return.

"Hmm?"

"You should come down here, just for a couple of days."

"Castle – "

"Even you need a break, Beckett. I don't think Montgomery would be against it. Hell, he might even pay me to get you out of there for a bit."

"I think you're mistaking me for – huh, I don't know – _you_."

"Oh yeah? Ask him for the weekend off. See what he thinks about it."

"Hah! You really think I'd fall for that, Castle?"

"It was worth a shot."

"You're incorrigible."

"I try."

"Why do I have the feeling that you were less drunk yesterday than you were letting on?"

"You're a suspicious person. Good thing, given your job."

"You remember most of our conversation."

"I always do."

"Even though you were drunk?"

"Doesn't change how seriously I take what you say."

"I am torn between laughing at you and being touched."

"Be touched. It'll save us both the trouble, and" he said.

"And?"

"And I like the idea of you being touched by me," he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. She knew by now that he wasn't as crass as he made it seem. This is what he did. He sensed when she needed a diversion, and he provided it to her – nicely packed and parceled.

"I'm sure you do, Castle."

"Tell me what's going on at your end? I miss the precinct too, you know."

"Here I thought you just missed me."

"I miss _you_ most," he said being all sincere again. She was asking for it, wasn't she? It wasn't that she regretted getting him to say such things. Not when it made her feel this way. But she didn't understand why she was doing it. Couldn't understand why she needed to hear him being so – just so darn Castle about it."

"The guys miss you too. They were talking about you the other day."

"Really?" he asked, sounding happy.

His eyes were probably crinkling at the corners like they often did when he was pleased. She liked that about his smile; the fact that it reached his eyes. Liked it even more when she put it there; felt proud about it – about returning some of the joy he brought her. It wasn't conventional. They didn't crack inane, overdone jokes. No. He would most often say something smart. A reference that she would get and he'd be inordinately pleased with her; sometimes it was just a well placed pun; a lot of times, it was innuendo. She loved it all, matching him wit for wit – something she knew he loved about their relationship (their relationship?) because the corners of his mouth would twitch, and his eyes would twinkle – genuinely, honest to God, twinkle.

"Yeah," she said, "They were arguing about which one of them would ask you about borrowing your new controller."

"Oh," he said flatly, and she laughed.

"Break's over, Castle. I've got to get back to work."

"Okay," he said, and sighed, sounding like a dejected puppy.

"We'll talk later. Go have a bath."

"How do you know I haven't already?"

"You're the one who said it. I know you well."

"Hmm. You do. Hey, Kate?"

The way he said her name just then – it sent tingles down her spine, all the way to her toes."

"Yeah?" she whispered.

"You and Jess didn't exchange numbers, did you?"

Kate laughed evilly.

"Aww. Come on. Did you?"

"There's video evidence of last night, isn't there?"

"Not as turned on, oddly. Did you?" he repeated.

"Nope."

"Good."

"But I'm a detective, Castle. I'll find a way to get that video."

"You wouldn't go that far," he said confidently.

"Try me."

"I'd love to," he parried.

"Watch it, , or you'll find some interesting stuff about you on the internet."

"You'd know exactly where to find it, wouldn't you?"

"Easily enough on any search engine, I'm sure."

"Uhuh. Not on the message boards, as CastleGroupie17?"

"Nope," she said, popping the P.

"RCsNumber1Fan?"

"Try again."

"Does that mean you _are_ on there?"

"You'll never know, one way or the other."

"I'll figure it out."

"I'm gonna go now, Castle. Some of us have real work to do."

"Ouch. So feisty in the morning."

"You have no idea."

"Tease."

"Bye, Rick!" she said, intentionally rolling the R.

"Until next time, Kate."

* * *

**A/N:** There ya go. Bantery innuendous fluff. Fluffy innuendous banter? (I know innuendous isn't a word. I think it ought to be.) You know the drill.

To the guest reviewers, and the people who've turned off private messaging – I can't reply to you individually, but know that I appreciate all the reviews. Thank you, all.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Kate was having a miserable day.

The call for the case had come in the dead of the night – no pun intended – and she reluctantly gave up the warm confines of her comforter for the dark and chilly world outside her well-heated apartment. She had already been working on a case the day before, deciding to finish up paperwork rather than letting it pile up for the rest of the week.

In the long run, it was a good idea. In a state of definite lack of sleep, it seemed like a stupid move to be sincere and productive. Staying to finish her reports despite knowing she was on call for the night was her decision – and such was her job (one that she loved on most days) and so she resigned to follow through with not much more than allowing herself to be in a less than stellar mood.

Unfortunately, the day grew bleaker with every passing hour.

The case was going nowhere, and yet it wasn't quiet. There were tons of leads. The victim was shady and well hated by a whole lot of people – honestly it seemed like he had a hate club. Before they knew it was a murder investigation each of them had vividly described how they would like to kill the victim – three of them wanted to throttle him with their bare hands, one of the women wanted to choke him, a cousin wanted to "dunk his useless butt in honey and toss him in a barrel filled with ants", his mother wanted to whack him dead with a broom, and his "business partners" wanted to feed him to the sharks (They specified that they didn't mean loan sharks, but actual sharks in tanks like in those ridiculous old spy movies).

Of course the actual COD was a simple, single gunshot to the head. And of course, when they realized Stu was dead, the mourned his loss – the mother was positively wailing and blowing her nose on Esposito's sleeve as her stubby little fingers clutched his t-shirt (Thank God for him that he had a few extra clothes in his locker. Yuck). Ryan was only slightly luckier. He narrowly missed being clogged in the nose when the business partners jumped up to celebrate their 'friend's' untimely demise (untimely only because they thought it was a couple of months too late). The interrogations had been a colossal waste of their time, energy and Espo's t-shirt.

They were all exhausted and more than cranky by the afternoon. Considering that they had been at it since before dawn, it seemed to them like a whole day's worth of work, and they still had time to go. They were taking turns to have a late lunch, the boys going first upon Kate's insistence, while she continued to piece together the timeline. It was mucking up her already exhausted mind, and that was doing nothing to improve her mood – which is when Castle called.

Very early in their partnership, no matter what Castle did, Beckett found it annoying. Every little stupid step he took to follow her, every single time he invaded her personal space, every time his face turned arrogantly smug; all the ridiculous, appalling innuendo; the way he thought he could charm his way by buying her breakfast, and the unlimited supply of moronic theories – well, she thought he'd made it his life's ambition to annoy Kate Beckett.

Eventually she started seeing things differently. He trusted her enough to follow her anywhere, guard his life, and be her back up. His close presence reassured her, anchored her. The smug grin suited his face, and more often than not, it was really a grin of pride at succeeding in making her happy. The innuendo, and the subtext – it was as much a part of their language as cop slang was. Each day saw many variables – some good, some bad – but he provided her with a constant. It was as simple as coffee. Half the time he sprouted crazy theories just to get her to lighten up, one fourth of the time he actually believed in them, and it was cute, and another fourth of the time, it got her thinking outside the box, and actually solved a few cases.

When he called today, sadly, her perception had been skewed by her mood. It went back to era of angry-Beckett days.

* * *

"_Oh-kay, Beckett. Take it easy, I was just joking,_" he said defensively, after she gave him a telling to on a wise crack.

"Just because you take everything easy, Castle doesn't mean we all do. It's a serious job, but no – _everything_ is a joke to you."

"_Kate, come on. It's our thing. I joke, you pretend not to laugh_,_" _he said, and repeated quietly, "_It's our thing._"

"Don't. Don't just switch on the charm and call me Kate, and think that that'll help."

"_Wow. You're being unfair. I don't even know what's going on with you._"

"Unfair. Hah! I'll tell you what's unfair, Castle. That this guy is dead, and we're sorrier about it than anyone connected to his life. The only person remotely interested is the guy who inherited his baseball card collection."

"_And sad as that is, I still don't understand why you're taking it out on me._"

"This isn't about you!"

"_I _know._ Tell me what it's about. I'm at a loss here,"_ he said, sounding tired.

With the heel of her palm applying pressure to her forehead, she took a deep breath, but gave no answer.

"_Look, Kate. I don't know what's going on. I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I won't know until you tell me. Shake it off, figure it out – whatever. Call me when you're ready to talk, okay?"_

"Yeah," she said, and then hung up.

* * *

Now it was evening, nothing that followed since the conversation was anything good. At this point, no news really was good news. The case was harassing everyone. Even Montgomery told them to give up on it for the day. She sent the boys home, though they protested about it – not that they didn't want to go, but they wanted her to leave too. "It's not going anywhere, Beckett. We'll come back at it after a decent night's sleep," Ryan had said.

They finally left when she told them that she would cut out soon as well. "Just a little while longer, and I'll call it a night too," she'd said. They probably knew a little meant a lot. They also knew that it was as much of a compromise as she was willing to make.

On top of everything else in the day, on top of fuming at almost everyone and everything, she was also angry at herself. It was guilt, and she knew it. Castle was right, she was being unfair - and nothing - nothing today was making her feel better.

With that in mind, hours later, she headed for the one thing that might help. The coffee machine. His coffee machine. Theirs.

She turned it on, and listened as the metal contraption came to life, being as quiet as it could, and yet it was loud. And though it was loud, it was peaceful. It hissed once before quieting down into the last couple of drips, so she reached for her cup. As though in keeping with the way the rest of her day had gone though, when her hand was under it, another wave of steam set loose from the nozzle and causing her to hiss in pain as she yanked her arm back.

A string of colorful curse words left her mouth, and she couldn't care less - she was in pain, and she was tired - no, exhausted; and the damn coffee machine had turned against her. This was a really, really crappy day and all she wanted to do was go up and pummel an unsuspecting punching bag, which she probably wouldn't be able to do with a now sore hand. Didn't stop her from whacking the machine thoughtlessly, though and that caused another wave of pain jolt through her. She grabbed the counter with her good hand, holding the other close to herself; ground her teeth, and clenched her eyes shut. Just let one more thing go wrong, and she'd be a mess. A bigger mess. Just one more stupid -

"I don't know why you're angry. But don't harm the innocent coffee machine, Beckett. Not it's fault you're a caffeine junkie who can't wait for it to settle before diving for your cuppa." His voice held both concern, and amusement.

* * *

She stopped breathing. By 'just one more stupid thing', she really hadn't meant realistic hallucinations of Castle - if that's what this was. Maybe she actually dropped the cup of coffee, then slipped on it to give herself a nice little concussion. Because if this was a realistic Castle hallucination? Well, the universe can't be that cruel, can it?

Castle - whom it seemed, was real after all; because no hallucination could possibly make her stop breathing, and start breathing again within the space of minutes. She hadn't been breathing for a minute? Castle must've taken her silence for pain, because the next thing she knew, her arm was being cradled in his large, soft palm as he gently tugged her to the sink. He turned the tap on and watched intently as the stream of cool running water cascaded over her hand.

Part of her still didn't believe he was her, and another part of her was busy trying to agree with that part. How could he be here? Why would he come, after the way she spoke to him earlier today? Why wasn't he saying anything? Why wasn't she?

While he was watching her hand with concern, she was staring at him - with disbelief probably evident on her face. Slowly he turned to face her, and when their eyes locked, she forgot all the questions. She forgot her stinging hand - which actually started feeling better the instant he held it under the cold water. She forgot her day.

He gave her a small smile, and sheepishly said, "Besides, I brought you coffee. Although if you don't want i - ooooompf," he had the breath knocked out of him when she shook off his grip and almost tackled him, hugging him in a tighter grip than either expected.

"Wow. You really love your coffee," he joked lamely, causing her to release what sounded like half sob, half chuckle, as she turned her face into the junction where his neck met his shoulder. He hugged her back just as tightly - or maybe a little less, he didn't want to squish her - broken ribs would make for an awful reunion story.

She breathed him in deeply, and felt his sigh of relief in return, before she finally spoke into the cocoon of his warmth - of his protection. "I'm sorry, Castle," she said shakily.

She pulled back, looked into his eyes, and apologized again - one single tear threatening to spill over onto her cheek, but somehow, somehow, she held it back. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey," he whispered, "It's okay. We're okay. You're entitled to a bad day."

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You make things better for me all the time, Castle, and - I didn't mean what I said today. I'm sorry."

"Okay. Okay. Apology accepted. Please stop saying you're sorry?" he said, smiling, looking at her in a way she couldn't even begin to manage describing.

So close, he was so close, and she couldn't help but glance at his lips, before she pulled back abruptly. Since when did they do _this_? Hug so openly, talk so openly.

She supposed the talking openly had been a long time coming, perpetuated by calls they'd been sharing over the past month. The banter had always been their thing – he was right. They talked easily, right since the beginning. He'd been one of the handful of people who even knew what her mother's death had meant to her – to see how deep those scars ran. Somehow, since the beginning, he got her to open up to him. But they weren't used to showing affection so easily. Usually they held back – though admittedly, sometimes barely so.

The feeling was so good though, and so right. To be engulfed in his being; to be surrounded by the scent of him. It felt right.

Suddenly though, she remembered at least a few of the questions that were running through her head before the sheer relief at the sight and feel of him. "What are you doing here?"

"A few seconds ago, I was hugging you. Before that I was trying to save _that_ poor contraption from your ire."

"Don't be dense," she said, though with a smile.

He shrugged. "I needed a break from the summer break, so I took a summer break-break."

"Obviously," she laughed.

"And I missed Alexis. Plus I thought I might as well check on mother. Make sure my home is in one piece to come back to."

"Understandable," she said, smiling fondly.

"And I didn't want to leave things the way we did."

Her smile dropped, but before she could utter a word, her cut in.

"Don't apologize again, please? I got a hug out of the deal. I'm all good. Payment made in full."

She chuckled. "Is it that easy to make things up to you?"

"Pfft. No! I'm going easy on you because I've heard about the terrible day you've had."

"Heard?" she said suspiciously. "How'd you even know I'd be here right now?"

Ignoring her interruption, he plowed on. "Plus this is one of the really rare occasions where I'm _not_ the one at fault. So naturally I had to investigate."

"Uh huh," she folded her arms over her chest and waited for him to go on. The man really talked a lot.

"I didn't know I'd stopping the assault on our coffee machine – "

"Would you stop saying that!" she glared at him.

"- just good instinct that made me buy you coffee, I guess."

"Thanks for that, by the way," she said, shyly, ducking her head so her hair shadowed her face.

"Always," he said softly. After a beat to let it sink in, he added, "I'm going to be here for the week. I'm going to spend as much time with Alexis as she'll allow me, and as much time with you as I can force you into letting me."

She smiled.

"Before I head back, I'm going to turn on that charm you mentioned earlier today, to try to convince you to come back with me for the weekend. Don't," he said as he saw her beginning to protest. "All I'm asking is for you to honestly consider it, and to give me a chance to convince you."

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly before she finally gave him the benefit of the doubt. Here he was, standing in front of her after driving back from the Hamptons, with coffees, and smiles, and hugs and –

"Okay."

His answering beaming smile could have lit the entire city. "Okay?"

"You have your chance to convince me, Castle. I'll listen to what you have to say before I decide one way or the other."

"YES!" he fist pumped into the air and actually jumped like a little boy having won a race. And then he hugged her again.

And she couldn't find it in herself to mind. In fact, she melted into him. Maybe this hadn't been normal for them. They'd never been quite conventional. Maybe…this could be their new normal. It was a pretty damn good new normal.

"Oh, Kate. You won't regret this."

"I know."

He leaned back and smiled at her. For a minute, she thought he would ask her to go home. Perhaps he would be so bold as to drop her home. Instead what he said made her want to kiss him – right there in the middle of the night, in the empty bullpen.

"Come on," he said, tugging her hand – how did she not realize they were holding hands? Holy mother of – "Tell me about the case?" he asked tentatively while nodded towards her desk.

She graced him with a full, teeth-baring, eye-twinkling smile. "Yeah. It's a tough one," she said as she let him drag her towards the murder board.

"I _eat_ 'tough' for breakfast," he said with a serious face, causing her to chuckle whilst rolling her eyes.

"I'm sure you do, Rambo."

They discussed the case till he knew the highlights of it. He put forth ridiculous theories. She dismissed all of them – though it did give her an idea that she said she'd follow through with the next day – later today since it was past midnight.

Initially he was uncertain of his decision – not to mention more than a little hurt; but he figured that she didn't mean the things she'd said, that she was having a tough time and being stubborn about it. He needed to show her that he could stick it out. Brave the storm. Pick correctly between defense and offense – all of it made worth it for the outcome. From where he was standing, next to his tired yet beautiful detective, it looked like an awfully good outcome. He was glad he made the call of coming back to New York – to Kate.

* * *

**A/N: **Was anyone surprised? If yes, then in a good way or bad? If no, then.. drats

Less banter, slight angst, more friendship and fluff. Tried to balance it. Sorry if it doesn't seem so. Also sorry if there are any gross errors. I didn't have the energy to go over it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

First thing Castle did after coming home was to hug his lovely daughter nice and tight. It had been a month and a week since he'd been away from home, toiling day and night to earn his bread and butter. Contrary to popular belief, research is not easy. Take Kate Beckett, for instance. Not easy – quite the opposite. Tough as nails and more complex than Fermat's last theorem, that's what she was.

One day she'd been talking to him, finally opening up, cracking jokes, dare he say – flirting. The next day she was snapping at him when for once he didn't even do anything. No provocation from his side. A stupid joke, which on any other day would have earned him a chuckle at best, and an eye roll at worst. There was definitely something wrong, but he didn't know what; and more than anything else – more than feeling hurt – he felt helpless that he couldn't make it alright.

That being said, he was hurt, and worried. Their little phone connection had been going so well up to that point that this had felt like an unfair blow. Fleetingly he thought that maybe he should have seen it coming. It felt too good to be true, and maybe it was. Then he tried to think about things from her perspective. He pondered over what would warrant such a reaction, and tried to think back on the times when she'd been like that before.

Those were the times where the case had gotten too overwhelming, and Kate had some trouble dealing with overwhelming. He always thought that it was a point of pride for her. To not be able to disengage such situations would be akin to admitting defeat, and that too would not be something she'd be willing to do. To put it simply, she had trouble letting go. That much he knew about her. Sometimes it was a good thing; a great thing. When it was; it was labeled determination, persistence, perseverance, tenacity, resolve. When it wasn't; it was labeled pig-headedness, stubbornness, obstinacy.

More often than not, he saw it as something good – but he was biased. If he were to be honest; he was in love with her. It was like having rainbow vision. Everything was Kate Beckett, and nothing hurt.

It got him to thinking that he'd just called at the wrong time. Or. _Or –_ he'd called at precisely the correct time. It was a sign from the universe. It was his calling. He would go to her, be at her side, show that he's committed – as a friend; or more if she allowed herself to see it. He's committed to the good times and the bad. 'For better or worse.' He wasn't one to shun signs from the universe. Nope. If the universe had something to say, Richard Castle was all ears – especially when it came to Beckett.

Armed with a plan, he all but ran to his bedroom at the Hamptons and zoomed around like an excited electron, packing his bag. Actually, he packed a lot of his spoiled clothes. Might as well take 'em home, do laundry. His things were home anyway, and it wasn't like he was headed to a place far away. Quickly tossing the single bag into his car, he was bound for New York. The invisible tether between Kate and him tugged till he got the message.

* * *

When he got back, after hugging it out with Alexis, and spending a good hour before she cut out on him to visit her friends, he had a quick, unusually wise chat with Martha. While his attention was on Alexis, she hadn't said anything concerning him. Once she left though, it felt like she was examining him – like she was using some kind of mother-vision and mind reading voodoo thing to dissect him. His thoughts were somewhat confirmed when she rose from her place at the kitchen counted to pat him on the head. He tried to look mildly indignant.

"What did you do this time?" she asked.

"Huh? What did _I_ do?" Really, what was with everyone assuming that he was the one who was up to something? Although, to be fair, whenever something happened, _he'd_ automatically wrack his brain to make sure that he hadn't been the one to do it.

"You didn't come back to New York for clean underwear, Richard. You came for that pretty young lady who just left the house, and a beautiful detective who probably has no idea you're here."

He shifted his feet uncomfortably and looked away from her gaze. Between all the humor and drama that they were used to, he sometimes forgot that Martha was a clever woman. He couldn't always be sure of which traits he'd inherited from Martha, and which from his absconding father – didn't have a baseline for comparison. But he knew that his ability to read people; essentially character study; those were Rodgers' genes.

"Come now, Richard. Have a seat, tell me what you did."

He sighed, relenting, and finally sitting down. "I didn't do anything," he started, "and the disbelief is really touching, mother; but for once it's true." He went on to explain the conversation he'd had with Kate earlier in the day. To his surprise, Martha said very little, and at the end of his retelling, she gracefully got up from her seat next to him, and patted his shoulder before heading to her room.

"Don't show up empty handed," were her only words of advice. They were enough.

* * *

Encouraged by the fact that he had his mother's blessing – also that if things went south with Kate, he was prepared to pass this off as being half Martha's idea – he headed to the coffee shop. _You can't get a girl hooked and then disappear on her, Castle._

With her order, and his, in hand, he once again quickly assessed the situation. This was one of _those_ situations; he thought again, where Kate would be trying too hard. He was sure about it – kind of. So he called Ryan.

"Castle! Bro! It's good to hear from you," Ryan answered enthusiastically.

"Hey, Ryan, my man! It's good to hear you, too."

"What's up? Living it up while the rest of us struggle through life?" he joked.

"Ah, actually –"

"Uh oh."

"Hey! I wasn't even here to do anything," he said, affronted. This was getting ridiculous.

"Hah. I'm sure you can manage if you really try."

"Thanks, I think?"

"You said you _weren't_ here. Does that mean you're back now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, uh –"

"Beckett's probably still at the twelfth, staring at the murder board."

"I didn't ask."

"You were going to."

"Yeah," he said truthfully. "Do you know why she's mad at me?"

"She's mad at everyone, and everything. Bad case, stupid day – just one of those days, you know. We all have them."

"That's what I figured."

"Get her to go home, Castle. She's running low on sleep, and high on a bad mood."

"I'll do my best."

"I know you will. I'll let you get to it."

"Ryan, thanks."

"Anything, Castle. See you around the precinct?"

"You can bet on it."

* * *

As he stood in front of the lobby elevator at the twelfth precinct, he took a moment to notice how very serene it seemed tonight. It was empty but for the few security personnel. It probably ought to have seemed eerie – the quiet of the lonely night fitting quite well with the general mood – but to him it just felt like he was getting home after a really busy day. Ready to…ready to see his work wife. A thought he should keep to himself. It probably wasn't a good idea to barge into the bullpen and shout, "honey, I'm home" like he wanted to. He figured she wouldn't be in the mood to appreciate it. Eh. Maybe next time.

The elevator dropped him off at his destination, and he found himself feeling nervous. Nervous about seeing her after so long, of whether she would appreciate seeing him here, or whether she'd flip her lid. Further flip her lid, in any case. His eyes scanned the room, coming up empty. She wasn't at her desk, though the lights were on – so she was still around.

He listened carefully for signs of life, and he heard them – it. The coffee machine whirred, and clanged, and hissed. Of course he would find her there. For a minute he only slightly regretted his hesitance outside the precinct. If she was already having coffee, maybe she wouldn't accept his, and that would sting.

Squaring his shoulders, he headed to the break room.

She stood with her back to him, waiting for their coffee machine to finish brewing a fresh cup. He watched silently from the entrance, as the machine hissed and dripped. She reached for it too fast, not enough time for him to warn her. He watched helplessly as the next wave of steam hit her hand. She yelped in pain and drew her hand back, but not before quickly whacking the machine with the same hand. It was funny how she drew complex, often contrasting reactions from him. He was both concerned, and on the verge of laughter.

Then she let loose a verbal barrage of expletives on the poor machine, and he was just plain impressed. Also slightly turned on, but that was nothing new. But she was tightly holding on to the counter, and looked like she was in pain – not just physical either. It looked like she'd had enough.

He'd had enough. He couldn't take it anymore. "_I don't know why you're angry. But don't harm the innocent coffee machine, Beckett. Not its fault you're a caffeine junkie who can't wait for it to settle before diving for your cuppa._"

He saw her stop breathing. It was a successful surprise, it seemed. Just remained to be seen whether it was a good or bad one. Her apparent shock bolstered him with courage, and he lost the slump of his shoulders, and the preemptive preparedness to fight her – all he wanted to do was to take care of her. He took her hand in his, trying to be as gentle as possible so he wouldn't hurt her more; and he tugged her towards the sink, under some running water.

She was watching him intently, still somewhat in shock, as he noticed from the corner of his eyes. But his sight was glued to her not slightly pinker hand. The water flowed smoothly over her arms, kissing every inch of skin in its path, and he wished, so much, that he could do the same. That he could heal her wounds with his touch. Reluctantly and with some measure of difficult, he looked away from her hand to look at her instead. To look into those green-speckled brown eyes that still held surprise – and dare he say, pleasure? – at seeing him next to her.

He lips were slightly parted, and his eyes kept getting drawn there. No matter how much he tried to force himself to look away, he couldn't. His eyes scanned her face, the face that he'd been imagining over the last several weeks when he spoke to her; the face that expressed more than words possibly could; the face that he missed, and was in love with.

It hit him with such force that he suddenly looked back into her eyes that hadn't moved from his. Feeling slightly concerned that she still hadn't said anything; he gave her a small smile that he hoped was reassuring. He started telling her about how he'd gotten her coffee, when suddenly his arms were full of Beckett. She'd hugged him so hard that he lost his breath for a minute, and right then he was having trouble remembering a time when he'd ever felt better in his entire life.

As per their norm, he joked lamely about her really loving coffee, and finally – finally he heard a chuckle and, what sounded suspiciously like a sob as she turned her face into his neck. It took all his might not to shiver from the feeling of having her so close to him. He held on tighter to her, to stop himself from pushing her just away enough to kiss her crazy.

She apologized, and any residual hurt or anger abruptly left him when he saw how close she was to crying. She didn't _do_ crying. It was disturbing to see her so vulnerable. He really, really wanted to kiss it better. He did his best to calm her, and when it seemed to dawn on her just how close they were to each other, she suddenly pulled back, looking just a little mortified.

He explained to her why he came back, half relying on their usual deflecting mechanism of laughter. But this time he came out with the truth, frankly. He didn't want things to remain in a state of limbo between them – not knowing which direction they would go. It was unacceptable.

She thanked him for the coffee, and he told her about how he was going to try his damdnest to convince her to go to the Hamptons with him, over the next week when he'd spend most of his time with her. Hearing her 'okay' had made any anxiety of his decision to come back, vanish in an instant. He knew he was smiling too widely, because his jaw hurt, and he didn't _care!_

Impulsively, he hugged her again, and it felt so good to finally have her in his arms. She was soft, and compliant, and not intent on killing him. It was like a dream come true. Better than every hug he'd shared with her in his dreams and he hoped that they would continue this new hugging thing for a long time to come.

As badly as he wanted to carry her out of the place, instead he did what he thought she would appreciate more. Something that she needed at this point – and he would give it to her. He would scrounge the ends of the Earth trying to find what she needed, if she let him.

And so he asked her to tell him about the case. To get this thing – this thing that had been weighing her down all day – off just her shoulder. Kate wasn't the kind of person who would appreciate someone – no matter whom – trying to solve her problems for her. But he could at least get her to share her burdens, so her shoulders were that much lighter from carrying the weight of the world.

They joked, and parried back and forth, about this and that – about the case and not; about everything and nothing. It was comfortable, and easy, and good. Silently, in the confines of his mind, he gave himself a proverbial pat on the back for making the call that would possibly save their relationship. He was in it for the long haul, and as she explained the details of the case to him, completely oblivious to the fact that her fingers were playing with his – dancing and caressing, weaving in and out, in and out from between his fingers; he thought that she was finally starting to see it too.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Ryan and Esposito were having their coffees in the break room when they noticed Castle walking into the bullpen. He was heading straight for Beckett, of course. Ryan started to walk towards them, but was quickly yanked back by his partner.

"Hey! Castle's here, I was going over to say hello."

"Nuh uh. Come here. Something's up."

"What?"

"Look!" Esposito said, using his hands to make a small enough gap in the blinds.

"Uh. What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look how close they're standing. They're practically squished together. The desk is long enough to have them standing a foot apart."

"They always stand too close. That's nothing new." came Ryan's reply.

"This is _closer_," he huffed.

"Eh, I don't – oh my GOD!"

"What? What?" Espo said as he tried to peer through a larger gap in the blinds.

"She nudged his shoulder! And smiled! AND their faces are so close they could be kissing!"

They heard someone clearing their throat behind them, and turned suddenly, caught in the act of spying.

"Detectives?" Montgomery addressed them with an eyebrow raised.

"Sir," they answered in unison.

"What are you two doing?"

"Uh. Nothing, sir. We just –" Esposito sputtered.

Ryan came to the rescue. "- we saw a little fly trapped in the blinds and we were trying to free it." He punctuated his words by randomly waving his hands at the window and said, "Fly away, little fly, fly away."

Esposito fought the urge to sock him.

Montgomery looked at him like he'd gone insane, "Well, if you're done saving flies, how bout you get back to work and solve a homicide."

"On it." "Yes, sir." They said together as Montgomery turned around and left the break room, looking somewhat amused.

"_Fly away, little fly_?" Esposito said flatly.

"I didn't hear you come up with anything better," Ryan said, raising his chin.

Espo shook his head, and clapped Ryan on the back. "Okay, savior of flies, let's head back. Oh, wait, hold on just a sec. Watch the door."

"What are you doing?" Ryan asked as he watched the break room entrance.

"Gathering evidence," Esposito said as he quickly snapped a picture on his cell phone. "Okay, let's go."

* * *

Kate was studying the murder board intently, trying to come at it with a fresh perspective. After she'd rehashed the case the previous night with Castle – thinking about it made her smile – he'd made a short yet succinct summary, and she found that it had helped. It wasn't something she expected. He was a writer – he added words, drama; exposition, so it came as a surprise that he cut it down to size, impressively getting at all the important points. When she asked him about it, he shrugged and said that it's what writers do to keep the story together. Between the vivid descriptions, side plot, character development, there has to be something tying everything together and sticking to some sort of plan. He said he'd show her some of his outlines for his earlier books. She didn't squeal on the outside. Instead she just told him how she'd love that while her brain screamed 'understatement'.

While she was trying to focus on the outline sitting once more in front of her – if only she could get to the bottom of it – she didn't even realize when Castle had made his way to her. He quietly leaned against the desk beside her, holding their coffees to his chest.

"Uh, hi there. I'm wondering if you could help. I'm looking for my partner."

She turned to him confused; with her eyes furrowed and was gifted with a twitch of the corners of his mouth as he tried to hold back his smile."

"Have you seen her?"

Turning back to the board, she watched him through the corner of her eye trying to figure out what he was up to, but played along. "I don't know. What does she look like?" she asked coyly.

"Hmm. Well, she's tall, has the most _gorgeous_ eyes. Sometimes she takes on too much. Carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, yet manages to laugh at some of my jokes."

"Sounds like a handful," she said softly.

He just beamed at her.

"Shut up and give me my coffee, Castle."

He passed on her cup, and a chuckle. Once she accepted it, and took a long, slow slip, she nudged his shoulder with hers, and turned to him. "I'm glad you're here," she said quietly, for his ears only.

Their faces were close. So close, in fact, that he could hear her breaths, feel them on his lips. Just an inch of space from where he wanted to be. "Me too," he replied, averting his eyes from her smiling, slightly parted lips, averting himself from danger.

"Hey Castle!" the guys said as they walked towards her desk. Beckett and Castle turned to them, moment broken.

"Hey!" he stood up and they did an awkward man hug thing that had her smiling, looking on fondly at her boys. They exchanged pleasantries, and then got back to work. Everyone wanted this case wrapped up.

"Financials just came back on Scott, McManus, Peterson, and Williams – they look fine. Though Scott had motive," Esposito said.

"And Peterson's phone records show that he'd made a lot of calls to the victim recently," Ryan added.

"So did Williams, actually," Esposito added.

"Then there's the mother, and sister, and business partners – Murray, and Murray."

"What about them?" Beckett asked.

"Mother and sister have motive, but they hadn't been in touch with Stu for months now," Ryan said.

Espo added, "And Murray, and Murray don't seem to have motive. Although, Stu was causing them to lose out on money and clients, so his death did do them a favor."

"If he was such a problem, why were they still working with him?" Castle piped up.

"He'd saved Murray – 1's son's (and so Murray – 2's nephew's) life by pushing him out of the way of a speeding bus. They felt like they owed him."

"Wow, figures we'd get land this case," Castle said happily. "I think Beckett attracts all the crazies."

Ryan and Esposito looked like they were about to burst into laughter, so he turned to Kate in confusion. She raised her eye brow, bit down on her lip to hold back her smile. He thought back to what he said. Oh. Mean.

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Castle said flatly.

"What, Castle? You saying you're not attracted to Beckett?" Esposito smirked.

"Call me crazy," he said with a shrug, and winked at Beckett who blushed so cutely, he almost forgot about Ryan and Espo's presence besides him.

"Guys, can we focus?"

"I _am_ focused," Castle said with a smug grin she wanted to kiss off his face.

"On the case."

"_Fine_. You're no fun," he pouted, still staring intently at her.

"Guys?" Ryan said; both of them looking uncomfortable, probably because for a minute, they really didn't exist.

Beckett flushed pink, looking embarrassed, but Castle recovered quickly, turning to Ryan. "We should make a table."

"I'm sure you want to enroll all of us in a carpentry workshop, Castle, but now is not the time," Esposito said, looking quite serious.

Castle rolled his eyes. "Not that kind of table. This kind –" he said as he got up and turned the white board to its blank side and started drawing lines. Once those were done, he entered all the suspects' names in the columns, and filled the rows with financials, motive, phone records, alibis, possibility of possession of the weapon, previous police records, and connections.

By the time he stepped back, they all looked impressed.

"Good thinking, Castle," Esposito said, and Ryan agreed. Beckett smiled, and nodded for him to get back to her side.

Silent communication to tell him he did well. When he leant against the desk next to her, he could have sworn she shifted just a little closer and purposely brushed her arm against his. "So we fill this up," she said, looking straight ahead. He took her cue and tore his eyes away from her. "And narrow the list down."

They got to work, filling everything up and saw holes in the table.

"I thought you were supposed to get Williams' alibi, Beckett."

"No, I passed that on to you guys, when Montgomery said Scott wanted to talk to me."

"Oh. We didn't get around to it because we were looking for Peterson."

"Get it now. What about Peterson's financials? We can do that from here."

"Yeah, on it."

"Okay, hold on, Castle and I will go get Peterson, you guys trace his financials and find out Williams' alibi. See if it sticks," she said, glad to finally have a plan, "Let's go, Castle."

"Right behind you," he said.

She took a couple of steps ahead before turning back again. He handed two packets of taffy to the guys from his bag, much to their delight; and then ran to catch up with her.

"I don't get taffy?" she asked, with a slight pout. Gah, he wanted to kiss those lips.

He chuckled, and put his hand to the small of her back, and – when did that start becoming okay? Why did it feel so good? –nudged her so they could head to the elevator. "Why, detective," he said, leaning into her once the elevator doors closed them in; his breath washed over her ear, "isn't it enough that I got my ruggedly handsome self back to you? You have my wit and intelligence to your disposal. And I'm willing to give you so much more," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'd rather have the taffy," she said flatly, feeling proud that it sounded even, and not breathless like she felt with him at such close proximity.

"I have yours in the bag, but I'm not so sure I want to give it to you after all. You're so mean to me."

"Castle, I can't believe you missed it."

"Huh? Missed what?"

The elevator doors opened, she smiled that sly, wide smile with her tongue teasing her teeth, and walked out, knowing he would follow.

"Missed what, Beckett?" he said, taking long strides to keep up with her.

"You tell me," she said, getting into the car.

As he followed, he grumbled till – "Oh. You didn't deny that I'm ruggedly handsome," he said, looking like a kid who'd been given a star, "_And_ witty and intelligent."

She turned back to the wheel, looking pleased.

"Careful, Kate. With such stunning reviews, a man might think you've grown fond of him."

"Would he now?"

"Mhmm. In fact, he might grow fond of you, too."

"I thought he already was," she said as she bit into her lip and pulled into traffic.

"As long as we're clear on that," was his reply.

* * *

By the end of the day, Kate's spirits were soaring. They still hadn't caught the killer. But they'd narrowed down the suspect list to just two people – Murray number 1 and Peterson. Kate couldn't deny that Castle had yet again pulled through for them, and he didn't even try to be smug about it. They decided to close shop a little early, and pursue the leads they'd gotten tomorrow. Espo and Ryan all but bolted from the bullpen, shouting their goodbyes over their shoulders as Kate watched in amusement.

"You really should give the kids a break from homework now and then, honey," Castle joked, earning him a punch on the shoulder.

She was blushing from ear to ear because he called her honey, even if he said it jokingly. She couldn't help the butterflies that seemed dancing the salsa in her stomach. "Well, _kitten_," she said, smiling when he cringed, "someone's gotta be the bad guy. Got to discipline those two – they're totally naughty. Must have gone on dad," she parried.

"Your voice says naughty, but your face says adorable."

"Hmm. I guess you're a little adorable, too," she said.

He huffed. "I am _not_ _adorable_. I'm ruggedly handsome."

"If you say so."

"_You_ said so earlier."

"I don't recalling saying anything of the sort."

"You didn't deny it."

"I didn't, did I?

"Noooo. Come on, Beckett. Be nice."

"I guess Espo's rugged. And Ryan's handsome." She laughed at the look on his face.

"I meant be nice to me," he said with a pout. "Is it nice to tease, Kate?"

They were walking towards Remy's, but she stopped abruptly and turned to him, hardly any space between them. She grabbed his lapels and dragged him closer, his hands landing on her waist, and his face stunned speechless. Her right hand let go of his collar, and caressed his ear. His eyes closed involuntarily and his breath hitched.

"Does that feel nice, Castle?" she asked in a low, seductive voice.

He gulped, and nodded, unable to speak.

She dragged her thumb over his lip, before carding it through the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching him gently. "How about this?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice breaking.

He opened his eyes when she shook his hands off and stepped back. She'd already started walking again, and he moved automatically, pulled by the force of _her_.

"Kate?" he called out, thoroughly confused, and more than a little turned on.

She smiled brightly, and said, "So I guess it _is_ nice to tease." Looking inordinately smug and proud of herself – with good reason, he thought – she stepped into Remy's, leaving him gaping behind her. Gaping, and plotting his revenge.

* * *

**A/N:** 2 questions. 10….Progress, yes? 20 Is it nice to tease? ; )


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Castle was left speechless, and would have been immobile too had it not been for the vortex that pulled him to her, stronger than gravity, defying physics. She didn't even turn around to know that he was following. He knew that he always would. But that she knew too? It did things to him.

The waitress was headed towards her once she sat at one of their regular tables, and she looked at him with her eyebrows raised, knowing exactly why he was glued to the ground, a couple of feet from her, staring. She was used to his staring, and he ought to be used to her teasing, but she was taking it to a new level, and they both knew it. Well, then, he had to step up his game too.

He smiled, and hers faltered. She knew he was up to something, and she watched intently trying to figure out his next move. Move he did. Instead of taking the seat opposite her, he nudged his way in next to her.

"You guys ready to order?" the petite waitress asked them.

"We'll have our regular order, please."

"Two burgers, fries, a chocolate shake, and a strawberry shake; coming right up."

"Thanks, Cindy," he smiled at her, all charm and confidence.

She shifted next to him, feeling slightly – what exactly? Feeling slightly too comfortable in his warmth, and softness. She shivered suddenly, in realization of the fact that they were sitting close enough to share body warmth. And yet, it wasn't close enough. When did it get to be like that?

While their order was being prepared, they spoke about the case. It was an easy topic; neutral and safe. Cindy walked over to them; their food expertly balanced in her experienced arms as she set the plates and glasses down. She looked at Beckett with concern when she suddenly gasped and jumped in her seat. "You okay there, honey?"

"Yeah," Kate said, casting a glare towards a grinning Castle, and repeated, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just remembered something, about work."

"Oh. I hope everything's okay?" she said sounding genuinely concerned.

"Don't worry, Cindy," he said with a smug grin that she was dying to wipe off her face. "She gets a little… distracted from time to time." Of course, it was his socked foot rubbing over the arch of hers that was distracting her. He conveniently forgot to mention that.

"Oh. Okay, then. Enjoy your dinner," she said, sounding convinced.

"Castle!"

"Hmm?"

"What did you do that for?"

"Do what, Kate?" he asked with a beaming smile.

"You know exactly what," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Oh, that," he said, punctuation it with another stroke of his toes over her foot and it took everything she had, not to moan. And he knew it. "It's been a long day. You're tired. I thought I'd offer New York's finest a glimpse of what it would be like to be pampered at the end of the day by yours truly."

Hers truly. She took a deep breath. Damn, it felt good. Heck it felt so good that she'd be prepared to be convinced – oh.

She opened her eyes suddenly (when had she closed them?) and leveled him with a look. "Ah."

"Ah?" he echoed.

"This is you trying to convince me."

"I'm beginning with the little things, working my way up," he said with a roguish grin as his foot slip up her calf.

"Coffees, and foot massages," she said unevenly, and hated herself for it. Damn him.

Suddenly his mouth was at her ear and she involuntarily turned into him, her eyes slipping shut yet again. She shivered as his warm, moist breath washed over her sensitive skin, "You want to know what else I'm willing to offer?"

Nothing. She had nothing in response. Yes she wanted to know. No she didn't. What, what, _what_ was he doing to her?

He moved his face so his nose hovered over her cheek, and she turned even more, opening her eyes that were now dark with arousal – just like his. His moving lips glanced over her parted ones, but he wasn't kissing her. It was by the sheer force of will that she kept herself from licking her lips. Because that would mean – but…Nope, they were just talking. Really, really close, not quite innocent talking. "A jacket."

A…what now? "Huh?" she said, trying to recall if he said anything between offering her things and the jacket.

"I'll offer you my jacket. Or I can buy you new jackets – whatever you want. You're shivering so much, Kate; wouldn't want you to catch a cold," he said, pulling back to pop a fry into his mouth.

Ugh! Jackass.

She narrowed her eyes, and pursed her lips and went to swat his chest in retaliation, but he caught hold of her hand and brought it to his mouth, placing a sweet, gentle kiss at the back of her palm. Her breath got stuck somewhere in her throat. "Enticed yet, Beckett?"

Biting down on her lip, she tugged her hand from his grasp and stole a fry from his plate. "Mmm...I don't know. I think you should keep working on it."

He followed the path of the fry to her mouth as she pushed it in, deliberately slowly and sucked the salt off her thumb. Gulping visibly, he looked back at her eyes. "Hmm. I will. Come to the Hamptons with me, Kate."

She laughed, and smiled widely at him. "That's you convincing me?"

"Sometimes the direct approach works best."

"You've asked me before. What makes you think my answer will change at all?"

"Perseverance. You wanted me gone from the precinct. I think you want me around now," he said, pausing for a beat to watch her nod. Smiling brightly, he repeated, "Perseverance."

"Insanity," she said, taking a sip of her shake.

"Hmm?"

"_Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results._"

He growled, pleased. This time when she looked at him, there was no smile – just hunger. "You're quoting Einstein."

"So what if I am?"

"_It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer_."

She looked at his lips as he said it, and back up, her eyes dilating a fraction more – the black of her pupils washing ashore the green and brown. "You calling me a problem, Rick?" she said, rolling the R for good measure. "_I've got a woman's ability to stick to a job and get on with it when everyone else walks off and leaves it._"

"Margaret Thatcher," he said, impressed. "So stick with me, Kate. Get it on with me," he said, winking at her as she rolled her eyes, and then he said seriously, "while everyone walks off and leaves - stick with me."

"_When I have fully decided that a result is worth getting I go ahead of it and make trial after trial until it comes,_" she said.

"Edison," he said, and she nodded. He smiled devilishly, and she just knew he was about to say something that would lighten the mood, because yeah, things were getting serious. "Suits me just fine, Kate. You can make trial after trial until I come."

She rolled her eyes. "And you were doing such a good job of convincing me up till then," she said flatly.

"Ah. I still have tricks up my sleeve."

"Uh huh. Like?"

"How's your strawberry shake?"

Her brow furrowed in that cute way that made him want to kiss it. "Delicious? As usual. Why?"

"Can I have a taste?"

An unusual request, and he was changing the topic, but she shrugged and told him to go ahead.

"Great. Thanks," he said, and then he kissed her.

He kissed her.

Oh God, he was kissing her.

He was sipping from her mouth. And she was letting him. She tasted the mix of sweetness from the shake, and saltiness from the fries and – him. He pecked her lips a couple more times and then pulled back.

Her eyes opened slowly, like they wanted to remain close. Like she wanted to seal it in. Her tongue flicked over her upper lip, and he wanted to chase after it. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "You're right. It was delicious."

She blushed and looked back at her plate, at a loss of what to say, or do, or anything. It was. Delicious. It was.

"Maybe I should change my regular order, too."

"Don't."

He looked at her, frowning. "They go well together."

"My order?"

She shook her head. "Ours. Chocolate and strawberries."

"Yeah," he said in a low voice, with a smile.

"Yeah," she repeated, ducking so her hair so that it covered her blush.

"Eat, Kate."

"It's working."

"What is?"

"Perseverance. Thank you, for persevering, Castle."

"For you? Always."

They finished their dinner, and parted ways. He'd have dropped her home, she would have let him. But silently they agreed to leave it for another day. Working his way up, right? He could be patient; he would be patient for her, because it mattered more than he ever dared to imagine.

* * *

**A/N:** I know it's short, but cut me some slack, eh? I'm just a poor, unwell doctor ninja nerd, blatantly quoting famous people.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Early in the morning since Castle was wide awake with nothing better to do, he was attempting to do research. 'Attempting' - really, he was getting nowhere. It was unusually early for him to go to the precinct. Though he'd have loved to spend every waking minute hovering around Kate, convincing Kate, annoying Kate, embarrassing Kate, making Kate laugh, or any such activity generally involving Kate; he thought it might be better to give her some space to recover. Not too much though, he'd show up at his regular time.

In lieu of showing up at the precinct like a puppy on a leash, eagerly wagging his tongue – oh, how'd he'd love to do things with his tongue. That would be a good activity generally involving Kate. – he was researching…he couldn't remember what he was researching. But one thing led to another, and somehow he'd landed up on a picture of a goat attempting to eat a shoe. He frowned in confusion, and went back a couple of links to get back on track.

Of course, his concentration kept getting interrupted by visions of her. The memory of the taste of her lingered on. Though he'd brushed at night, and in the morning, and had breakfast – but no. No, no, no. His cortex was convincing his taste buds that he could still taste _her_, and that damned strawberry shake. Bless that strawberry shake. He should buy strawberries.

He should buy strawberries and chocolates and stalk up his Hamptons place and the loft for when they get back.

His eyes widened when he realized what he was thinking. Gah! She'd kill him. Thank God she couldn't read minds. Could she? Eh. At least he wasn't right next to her. Mind reading must work like Bluetooth, or wireless technology. Or so he assumed. Hoped. If she read his mind right now, his ear wouldn't be the only appendage being twisted. He winced in anticipatory pre-consequential pain. You know, just in case she _could_ read minds. He needed to clear his mind. _Be a ninja, Rick. Be Zen._ Maybe he should take up yoga.

Yoga. Makes a person flexible. _She practices yoga, doesn't she?_

He shook his head, and blinked away the images. _Those were not zen-ny thoughts_.

But! Kate, and strawberries, and chocolate, and yoga and _KATE!_ Unable to keep the thoughts from his mind, he gave a tortured, lovesick sigh, while staring blankly at his laptop. The screen showed a picture of a handsome young stripper cop.

That was when Alexis walked in.

He hadn't noticed until she cleared her throat, and looked from him to the screen and back with her eyebrows raised. "Umm," she started, "I'm just going to head to school."

"I'm – this isn't – I was doing research!" he stuttered.

"Uh huh."

"Really! This isn't what it looks like. See, I was looking for a young male cop –"

"There are some things a daughter doesn't need to know, father."

"Noooo. Let me finish. I was looking for _a picture_ of a young male cop _so that_ I could write a description for a background character in the book."

"You couldn't come up with a description of your own?"

"I was trying to be authentic."

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"And I was being lazy?" he added sheepishly with a grin.

Alexis rolled her eyes – and then _that_ reminded him of Beckett – and finally broke out a huge grin. Sly little thing knew he did all kinds of odd research. He narrowed _his_ eyes and got up from his chair to give her a noogie, and then proceeded to tickle her till she laughed hysterically. "Okay, okay, let go! I surrender!"

"Nuh uh! Having fun at your old man's expense," he said.

"Haha – I'm sorry!" she said between gasps, "If you don't let go –"

"You'll ground me?" he grinned.

"No! I'll tell Beckett about that photo you have of her!"

He stopped immediately, and gasped in indignation, holding his hand to his chest. "You wouldn't! My own daughter would betray me so? I never thought I'd see the day."

His dramatics did little to deter her, she only looked amused. "It's good to have leverage."

"Huh. How'd you get so devious?" he scowled, and grumbled.

"Like begets like," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Touché," he said with a wide grin, and added a fake sniff. "I'm so proud."

"Thank heavens. Now, father. I've got to leave. Are you going to be okay? How come you're doing research so early anyway? That doesn't seem like you."

"Hey! I can start work early."

"But you don't usually."

"True."

"_And_ I thought the point of you being here was to take a break from the break."

"Speaking of which, you want me to drop you to school, pumpkin?" he offered sweetly.

"No, Paige will be here in a minute. We're going to walk it up, get some exercise."

"Oh. Okay, then."

"Which means I have a minute, so don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject," he said; his shifty eyes giving him away.

"Dad, are you hiding?"

"There's no one here, who would I hide from?"

Deflection works sometimes.

"You're hiding, metaphorically. From whom? Gina?"

Deflection was not working.

"Pfft. No. She sanctioned my break when I told her it was better for my writing – not that she controls me."

"Sure, whatever you say," Alexis said flatly, "Not Gina, then. Hmm…"

"I'm not hiding," he said. "Aren't you getting late?"

"No, Paige will give me a missed call when she gets here," she waved him off distractedly, and hummed in concentration, as if solving a puzzle. "You're pretending to do research," she ticked off on her fingers.

"Really doing research," he cut in, waving to his laptop.

"You're up really early, but still at home."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"And you're sighing longingly at the picture of a young handsome cop."

"I was not sighing longingly. I do _not_ sigh longingly. That would not be macho."

She snorted. "Yeah, you're all about being _macho_."

He looked affronted.

"Oh my god!" she yelled suddenly.

"What? _What?_"

She grinned a grin that looked like his grin when he figured out a particularly good way of irking someone. "You're hiding from Detective Beckett!"

"_What?_ No. _Me?_ No. What? That's absurd," he said, fingers tugging at his collar.

"What did you do? Should I expect her to arrest you again? Dad, you really need to raise my allowance if you expect me to keep bailing you out."

"I keep offering to raise your allowance. You keep turning it down."

"That's because I don't need it. But if you're hiding from Beckett, I'm rethinking that decision."

"I'm _not_ hiding!" he repeated, exasperated.

She just continued to smile while he glared at her. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Fine! You win! I'm hiding from Beckett!"

"I thought so," she said, pleased with her sleuthing skills. Her phone chimed. "Ah, Paige is here. Stop hiding, dad, it isn't _macho_." With that, she kissed him on the cheek and ran out of the house quickly.

He sighed. "They grow up so quickly," he said aloud to an empty room, before shutting his laptop and getting ready to head in to the precinct. No more hiding.

* * *

Kate had been staring at the murder board for a good three hours. Fortunately, no one of consequence had been around for the first hour and half or so. Being caught staring at the murder board was not unusual for her. Often Ryan or Esposito, even Montgomery had walked in to find her looking at it, eyes wandering – sometimes rapidly from one point to the next, sometimes slowly moving through the information, trying to find the odd sock – and they'd either leave her alone for a while, or shake her out of it should they feel the need to. But – staring blankly at just one point for the larger period of three hours? Even _she_ thought she was going insane.

_Ugh! All his fault._

Why on Earth did he kiss her last night? Why hadn't he kissed her like that before last night? Why did it feel so damn good? _Why, why, why?_

He hadn't even called this morning to let her know if he'd be coming in. It's not that he usually called to say as much. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. The protocol was that _she_ would call _him_ if there was a new case or a break in a current case. There wasn't. Because she was staring at the murder board blankly for three hours, thinking about him.

She huffed and moved to sit in her chair. And let her head fall to the desk in frustration. _Ouch_.

Without lifting her head, she moved her hand to grab her phone (to check if she had any messages from anyone. Anyone being Castle) which is when her all her senses were over loaded with him. Because she was grabbing his hand – she was sure of it before she even looked up – smelling their coffee and his cologne, and hearing him chuckle. When she looked up, she saw his smile, and bit her lip to contain hers.

"Hey," he said, and her insides melted.

"Hey," she said, smiling.

After a minute of staring at each other, he finally opened his mouth. "Umm. I'll give you back my hand in a minute if you let me take my jacket off first," he said with a smile.

She yanked her hand from his, as if burnt, and looked away, thoroughly embarrassed.

He wasn't being smug about it, but yeah. Holding his hand in open view of the bullpen. Fodder for the gossipmongers.

"I didn't know if you'd be coming in," she said softly.

"Why wouldn't I? Should I not have? Do you want me to leave?" he said, sounding sad and uncertain.

"No! No. That's not what I meant. I was just asking."

"Oh. Okay, then. Good."

"Good."

"Yeah," he said, nodding.

"God!" she said exasperatedly, covering her eyes with her hand. "Why is this so awkward?"

He chuckled, relieved. "It is a little awkward, isn't it?"

"Little?" she repeated skeptically.

He grinned, and that put her at ease. "Can we go to the break room to talk, just for a minute?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that would be good."

They closed the door after entering the break room, and thankfully, the blinds were already drawn.

He turned around to face her, confirmed that they were left to their own devices, and then spoke up. "Hi," he said.

She laughed. "Thought we covered that already."

He just shrugged. "Should I have called to tell you I was coming in, Kate?"

"No, I guess not. You don't usually. I just –" she trailed off.

He put his hand on her arm and slid it down into hers, raising goose bumps along the way. "Tell me," he said softly.

She gulped, and looked into his eyes. "I just didn't know – don't know – where we stand. After last night."

"Beside each other, always."

"Rick," she breathed out.

"You're still you, and I'm still me. We're making it awkward unnecessarily. It doesn't have to be."

"We're still us," she repeated, with her eyes closed.

"Yeah, and we're also _us_, now. And we can do this now," he said, before leaning in for a slow, languid kiss. His lips moved over hers soundly, and she opened up for him with a sigh, giving and taking. It was different than yesterday. There was no pretext, there were no shakes. Just them. _Them_, and it was still delicious. His hand moved to angle her face, and then cradle it, while hers skimmed up his ribs. Gently, they pulled apart. "Wow."

"Yeah," she said breathlessly, leaning her forehead on his. But then she stepped back, looking like she didn't want to, which is why he beamed. "Precinct," she said.

"Got it. I couldn't get any work done," he said shaking his head.

"I thought you were taking a break," she said in confusion.

"I was trying to distract myself from thinking about _you_."

"God forbid you do that when I ask you to."

"You never really mean it." He shrugged.

"How would you know?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"I just do. In reality, you love the creepy staring, admit it."

"It's creepy!"

"And yet you love it," he said with a nod.

Sighing, she said, "I couldn't either."

"Stare at me? You have my full permission. I don't mind."

"I'm sure you don't," she laughed, before clarifying, "I couldn't get any work done either. All I could think about was you."

The answering smile he gave her could've lit the block, or saved the city, or driven a person crazy. It drove her crazy. After about a minute of it, she rolled her eyes, and said, "Stop smiling so much, Castle. It was unproductive, and now I'm feeling guilty."

"Ah no, don't do _that_," he said in despair, "Thinking about me should not be termed unproductive, or lead to guilt. It was only a distraction because you didn't know where we stand. But now you do."

"Now we do," she corrected.

"Yeah."

"We kiss," she said with a shy smile, "hug, and hold hands."

"Only with each other?"

She laughed and playfully tapped him on the back of his head, before rubbing the spot. "Thought that was a given."

"Just clarifying, for future reference. And ow! That hurt."

"It did not, you big baby," she said fondly.

"I like it when you call me _baby_," he said with a smile.

She took her hand off his head – hadn't realized that she was carding her fingers through his oh-so-soft hair.

"I was calling you _a_ baby."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," he said, "I'll take what I can get."

"Hmm," she said, suddenly looking serious, and he got worried.

"Kate?"

"I need you not to be a distraction, Castle."

He smiled in understanding, and got into her space again, to place a sweet kiss on her cheek. "I promise not to distract you at work, Kate. Outside of work, I give no guarantees," he winked, "but when you're at work, it'll be the same as always. We'll do this together and we'll do it well. Like it or not, Katherine Beckett, I'm your plucky sidekick."

"Plucky sidekick always get killed."

"Partner, then," he said confidently.

She nodded, "Partner."

"And now, your partner is going to re-heat your coffee, and help you solve this thing so that he can continue to woo you."

Her laughter rang out, and caused his smile to bloom, full on with his eyes crinkling. "Woo me?"

"Mhmm. Come to the Hamptons with me, Kate."

"You're relentless."

"Persistent."

"Incorrigible," she said.

"Dedicated," he defended.

"Insane."

"Resilient,"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Come on, let's solve this thing, and I'll think about it."

"YES!" he said, jumping in the air like a little boy.

"Shhh! Rick, precinct!"

"YES!" he whispered instead, but with no less enthusiasm, getting her to smile fondly. This time she leaned to steal a quick kiss, before turning around to leave the break room, leaving him to gather himself before following her.

* * *

Ryan withdrew his head from staring around the corner, still looking in Beckett's direction and said, "All clear. She's gone back to her desk."

"Detectives!" came Montgomery's voice.

Ryan and Esposito suddenly stood in attention, a stethoscope dumbly hanging from Esposito's hand.

"Sir," they greeted in unison.

He wordlessly pointed at the stethoscope.

"Ah! Uh. Dr. Parish left her stethoscope at the crime scene the other day, we thought we'd hand it to Beckett to give to her."

"Dr. Parish, our ME?" Montgomery asked with a raised brow.

"Yeah, that's her."

"Dr. Parish, our Medical Examiner, who exams our victims – _dead_ victims – left her stethoscope at the crime scene?" he said, and Esposito paled.

"Uh. She likes to be sure?" Ryan added with an innocent smile.

He rolled his eyes. "Get back to work! And give me that!" he said sternly.

"Yes, sir," Esposito said, handing it over.

"We'll just buy her a new one," Ryan said.

"Yeah, you can keep that."

"She probably won't even miss it."

He leveled a stare at them. "What's that? Ryan, did you hear that? I think Beckett needs us."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll just – go. There. Now," Ryan said.

They turned around and almost ran for it, like dogs with their tails between their legs, leaving Montgomery with a pleased grin, twirling the end of the stethoscope. "I still got it."

* * *

**A/N: **:D Long chapter to make up for the last one. Because I love you. (Even though ya'll were plenty happy with the smoochies in chapter 9.)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It was Friday evening. Everything had gone wrong. Castle was perched at his loft window which afforded one of the most expensive views that New York could, as he stared unseeingly at everything and nothing. Packed and ready to leave soon after breakfast tomorrow morning, there was nothing more for him to do.

Alexis had kindly, sympathetically offered to stay with him rather than going out to enjoy the movie she and her friends had decided to watch, in a bid to raise his spirits. With a smile, he declined the offer, saying that she'd be joining him at the Hamptons soon anyway, so she might as well enjoy her time with her friends her while she could, before all of them took off for their vacations.

Martha was out and about town, doing things he's rather not think about, with people he'd rather pretend were imaginary. He didn't mind at all. In fact, he was often quite impressed with her ability to enjoy life to its fullest.

Besides, he wanted to be alone right now, because Kate… He sighed. Everything had gone wrong.

* * *

_Thursday_

They'd finally solved the damn case. With everyone's full efforts focused on the case, the twelfth precinct's star team had managed to wrap up one of the most convoluted cases that had come their way recently. Murray number 1 was the killer. The story ran deep.

Stu was a class A bad dude. A con artist all his life, he had chanced upon the Murray brothers' small, yet successful business. Turns out he convinced Murray-one's wife that he was in love with her. He charmed her, bought her jewelry, pulled out all stops and ultimately had Mrs. Murray-one eating from the palm of his hand. Soon enough, Mrs. Murray-one was helping him gain access to the Murray brothers' business accounts to "help set our future together". All the while, Stu had come up with the brilliant and evil idea of "saving" his son to gain his confidence. Stu had been the one to first push the young boy so he stumbled into oncoming traffic – and then pulled him out with some well acted drama to come out the hero. The boy was too small to understand what was going on – but he did one day spill the beans to his father. Murray-one, by no means a stupid man, figured out that there had to be something fishy going on, which is when he stumbled onto the whole truth and decided on revenge.

All in all, it looked very much like something out of an older Castle book, and they'd joked about it. They were all in high spirits, not even once grumbling about the paperwork that had followed – and there was a good amount of it given the number of people involved and the crazy circumstances.

Castle took his chances again because things had been going so well between him and Kate. He asked her to the Hamptons and when she still looked uncertain is when things started going downhill.

He half joked about how if she didn't take his offer, someone else might. That had been, it seems, the absolute worst thing to say to her.

"So you plan on asking the next woman you can find, Castle?"

"What?" Castle defended, "No, Kate. Of course not, that's not what I meant. I was just joking."

Really, he'd have to screen his jokes because this was the second one that had gotten him in trouble with her.

"But it is, isn't it, Castle? That's exactly what you meant. If I say no, you'll just take someone else. Maybe you should go and invite Gina again."

His second mistake, he soon figured out, was defending Gina.

"Look, I don't get why you're upset, or why you're dragging Gina into this."

"I'm not the one who dragged her into anything, Castle, you are."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

They were in one of the conference rooms, and though the blinds were drawn and the door was closed, everyone outside tried to awkwardly pretend that they weren't witnessing Armageddon.

"I'm talking about Gina being all over you, and being all up in my face about it."

"The day I left for the Hamptons?" he asked, nonplussed.

She rolled her eyes. "No, I meant the other day when I bumped into both of you on the street. Obviously, I'm talking about that."

"No need to bite my head off. I'm trying to figure out what's going on with you."

"What's going on, is that you keep asking me to go to the Hamptons with you, to consider this relationship because finally, finally I started believing that you'd grown up. You asked me to go to the Hamptons with you, and then you went with Gina."

"Because you were with Demming!"

"I'd broken up with Demming!" she yelled back.

"What?" he said, clearly surprised. She'd told him that she wasn't seeing him anymore, but she hadn't said that she'd already broken up with Demming when he'd asked her to the Hamptons.

"You heard me," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in what she knew was a defensive posture, but she couldn't help it. She needed her defenses to be up.

He started towards her, but she took a step back, and it hurt. "Kate, I didn't know…"

"Yeah, well. Now you do."

"Gina and I – she really just came to make sure I stuck to writing, Kate. Nothing happened, I promise."

"But I believed that it happened, Rick. The way she was falling all over you; and you with your arm around her making goo eyes at her. The things she said, the way she said it – I believed that I was just…"

"Just what?"

"Another cat in the bag, another notch on your bedpost, another number in your little black book."

"How can you even think that? Kate, you are none of those things," he said softly. "I'm sorry, for the way it looked when she came by to the precinct. She was being territorial, and I was hurting so I let her be. There's only so much rejection a man can take before he starts getting the message, Kate. I thought I'd gotten your message, but that doesn't mean I just moved on. You're not a passing thought, Kate. You're every thought."

Her breath hitched, and he could see the tears that she kept from spilling over by sheer force of will.

He carried on. "You don't think it hurts me that you see me that way? That you buy into the 'play boy' image as much as the general public? You know it's an exaggeration, Kate. You know me. Or at least I thought you did."

"I do," she said after a beat. "The rational part of me knows that but when the whole thing went down –"

"Kate, I need every part of you to trust me. It won't work any other way."

She nodded. "Maybe – maybe you should go to the Hamptons. Maybe we should rethink this."

He gasped. "Kate –"

"Castle, I can't do this right now," she said, her voice breaking with the force of holding herself back.

He closed his eyes, in agony, defeat and without another word, he turned around to leave, leaving her alone to finally break down.

* * *

_Friday, at the loft_

Everything had gone wrong, and it was both their faults. His, for not having put his foot down; hers for not trust him.

But – but he realized that he hadn't really given her too much room to trust him completely. He had reopened her case when she told him not to – the most important thing in her life, and he had gone around messing with it. He had barged into her life – and though that had worked out in the long run, at the time it was something that he did against her wishes. Then this thing with Gina – something he had been blissfully oblivious about till she mentioned breaking up with Demming. When she did, it took him less than a second to figure out the implications of that. She had done it for him, obviously.

Yes, he wasn't the only one to blame – yes, she'd made her fair share of mistakes; but he realized that he was being unfair in asking her to trust him completely. Obviously they had to work on it, and that wouldn't come by letting the misunderstandings fester.

She was right in that it _looked_ like he was just going off with the next person he could think of. He thought, feeling ashamed about it, that the jealous side of him wanted her to think exactly that when he'd been thinking that she was with Demming. It was a big bucket of confusion and misinterpretation and the one time that they weren't in sync – the one time that they really needed to be.

They'd both made mistakes, and it had gone horribly wrong. But what he was doing now, up and ready to go to the Hamptons? That was a mistake too, he decided. He shook himself out of it, and stood up, clenched his fist with a new determination – he would not give up. He didn't know how things would turn out, but for his part, he would _not_ give up.

* * *

After figuring out from Esposito that Lanie had convinced Kate to drink away her sorrows at a bar near the precinct, Castle was headed there.

When he walked in, his heart nearly broke. She looked beautiful, and his heart nearly broke.

A tall, dark, handsome man had been chatting up Lanie who was sitting besides Kate. Kate was laughing, seemingly at a joke cracked by the man sitting next to her. She had hear head thrown back, letting a cascade of curls wind down her shoulders, shining golden in the glow cast by the overhead lights. The man who'd just made her laugh was handsome, Castle observed. His hair gelled back off his face, with dimples he laughed along with her.

He felt a surge of jealousy rip through him, and he gritted his teeth to keep from growling. And then she laughed again, and it broke his heart again. He took a deep breath to calm down – to keep from admitting defeat. He wouldn't give up.

He stood behind her, the man looking up at him with a peeved expression at being interrupted. Not caring in the slightest, he focused back on her. Clearing his throat, he softly spoke her name. "Kate?"

She gasped and turned around. "Castle? What are you doing here?"

"I – uh. Could we talk?" he asked, glancing at the man.

"Oh. Uh, sure, I guess," she said, getting up from her stool. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Lanie, Josh? I'm pretty sure she's already had too much to drink. I'll be right back."

"Sure, Kate. Not a problem. Is everything okay?" the man named Josh asked, sounding concerned.

She smiled, "Yeah. Everything's fine. I'll be right back," she repeated.

Castle noticed that she hadn't introduced them. She grabbed his arm gently and dragged him on to the floor, where a bunch of couples were dancing, and – other things. She wound her arms around his neck, and started swaying with him, and he instinctually held her waist, dragged her closer, breathing more easily than he had all day.

"Talk," she said.

"I'm headed back tomorrow."

"Hmm."

"And I didn't want to leave things like this. I don't know where we stand, and – that's not okay with me. If you chose not to come to the Hamptons with me, that's – I'll get it. That's your choice. But I'm not going to turn my back on something that has the chance of being so much more. Kate, I'm serious about you. Only you. I know I haven't given you the best impression of that – "

She chuckled and his heart soared at the sound. "Not the first word I'd associate with you."

"No, that would be "ass"," he joked back.

"Hmm. But it wouldn't be jackass. Just wiseass."

"Wow, compliments. I must be doing this right," he joked before switching back to serious mode after taking a deep breath of courage. "I think that we have a lot of things to work on, but if you're willing to give it a try, we can do this."

He pulled back to look her in the eyes, "I'm sorry, Kate, for letting you believe that you were just another statistic. You're not."

"I'm sorry, too, Castle. I do trust you. I guess I wasn't over it," she ended with a smile.

He decided to take the chance and tease her, lighten the mood. "Eh. It's okay. Jealous Beckett is totally hot Beckett."

She punched him on the shoulder, causing him to chuckle at her. He was just about to pull her back into his embrace when he saw Josh behind Kate. Kate turned around, with her hands now sitting on his waist.

"Everything okay, Kate?" Josh asked again.

"Yeah, fine, why?" she looked confused.

He looked uncomfortable. Good. "Oh, just, you punched him, so I thought…"

She laughed then. "Oh, he's used to it by now. Josh, this is Rick Castle – my partner. Rick, this is Josh. He was keeping me company while Lanie distracted with tall and hunky over there."

He shook Josh's hand with a little more force than necessary. "Nice to meet you," he said, "Haven't seen you around here much. New in town?"

Josh shook his head. "Uh, not new in town, no. But around here, yes. I just started working at the hospital across from here. Kate was very kindly telling me about the good places to hang out in the area," he said with a smile to Kate which she returned.

Castle's hands tightened on her waist, and he saw her smirk at him. But instead of punching him again, she surprised him by turning once more to Josh.

"Well, Josh. I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but I'm going to head off. Lanie looks like she's in safe hands, though I'll just go make sure before leaving."

"Leaving?" Castle asked her dumbly.

"Yeah. I need to get started on packing if you're planning on leaving early tomorrow. You gonna take me home or what?"

Castle beamed. "Yeah! Let's go," he said and started tugging her towards the exit.

She laughed again. "Hold on, writer boy, there's no fire."

"Speak for yourself," he said, casting a leer her way, causing her to blush and bite her lip.

"I'm going to say bye to Lanie, make sure she's okay, and then we can go."

He nodded, but instead of waiting, he said goodbye to Josh, turned Kate around, and started pushing her gently towards Lanie. "I should go say hi," he explained. "It would be rude to steal away one's best friend without at least saying hi. Don't want her worried."

"How gallant of you," she said, laughing.

"You bet your pretty little – ow – " she pinched his thigh "face. I was going to say face."

"Sure you were."

"Anyway, you bet your pretty little face that it's gallant. Do you know how many nightmares I have that Lanie or the boys, or Lanie _and_ the boys will come at me with axes, or guns, or knives, or ropes –"

"Castle…"

"Or samurai swords, or lethal poison darts, or light sabers, or ice picks, or baseball bats –"

"Castle…"

"Or – yaaaaaeeeey, woman!" he growled as he finally stopped pushing her and rubbed his arm where she pinched it hard.

"The point, Castle?"

"I was getting there," he said indignantly.

"Uhuh."

"They'd kill me to protect you. And I'd want nothing less. Anyone who breaks your heart deserves to be mutilated."

She reached up to kiss him then. "You say the sweetest things," she said, drawing back with a smile. "Now, stay here a sec. I won't be long."

"But –"

She pecked him quickly again, and started walking off on her own. "Stay."

"Woof," he replied, earning a full laugh from her.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay. How many of you were worried? Fess up!

I was going to leave it as a cliffhanger, but I just couldn't do that to you. (Also, I don't know when I'll be able to write and post next, so I didn't want ya'll coming at me with axes, or guns, or knives, or ropes… )

P.S. I don't know whether to end it here or not. Maybe have an epilogue after this. Seems like a good place.

Either way, thank you - each and every one of you who've followed this story, have left me reviews - anonymous or otherwise, and those who've been recommending it to others. The response to this story has blown me away, I am touched and honored to have such fantastic readers. Thank you, again. Much love.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

EPILOGUE

Castle and Kate had a heart to heart about everything that had gone down. An honest to God, grown up, mature conversation with real words and everything! He could hardly believe it.

He had an even harder time believing that she was apologizing. There was nowhere to go, of course, in the car on the way to the Hamptons. With her. In the passenger seat. She was allowing him to drive. It must be love!

Also, it might have had something to do with the fact that he was driving her crazy with all the possible car games he could think of for the short drive. Could he help that he was really excited? No, no he could not.

"I spy with my eye –"

"Oh my God, Castle stop!" she said, with the back of her hand covering the smile she was trying unsuccessfully to hide.

"Naw. Okay, come on. Last one. Then I'll be quiet."

"Hah. I'll believe that when I don't hear it."

"Fuh-nny, Detective Beckett. Okay. I spy with my eye, something green speckled with brown."

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Or something brown speckled with green. I'm still not sure."

"Well, that's hardly fair. How will I know what you're talking about, if you don't know what you're talking about?"

"You see them every day."

"Them," she said flatly, and swatted at his thigh. He grabbed her hand before she could draw it back. "You're talking about my eyes? God, you're such a girl."

He looked at her, and batted his lashes comically to make her laugh. "But, Kate, I'm _your_ girl."

"Hah. Yeah, you are," she barked out, and then suddenly sobered. He brought her palm to his mouth and kissed it, lingering for a second before letting go. "I'm sorry, Rick."

"Hmm? Well, I do bruise like a peach, but no one's gonna see my thigh. Unless of course, it's you," he said, waggling his eyebrow, trying to get a laugh out of her, but it never came.

"You always do that."

"Um. Is this one of those times when I've cracked a joke that's somehow awful in its timing leading to an epic fight? Should I pull over?"

Then she did laugh. "No, don't pull over. But, yeah, that's sort of what I'm talking about. I blame you, Castle, and you take it. You take it all on yourself, and then some and you keep forgiving me even if I don't deserve it."

"Oh. Kate, I don't – I mean, okay, yeah. These last two fights really did leave me extremely confused, and slightly wary about cracking jokes. But mostly, I get it, Kate. You've known the idea of me being a playboy a lot longer than you've known me for what this truly is. Plus I didn't exactly help matters by being flippant about it in the beginning."

"You deserve more credit. You've proven to me over and over again that if anyone's loyal, and committed to something, it's you. I wish I could tell you how grateful I am that you came back, Castle. Every time."

"Consciously, or subconsciously, Kate – you took me back, every time."

"My turn. I spy with my eye, someone who's fiercely loyal, quite funny, mostly crazy and sometimes smart – "

"Hmm," he said with a smile, "Is it that dude?" he asked, pointing at the poster for Kentucky Fried Chicken.

She rolled her eyes, and laughed. "Yes Castle, I meant Colonel Sanders."

"Score!"

* * *

"Wow! You rich or something?" she asked in awe, her eyes taking in the huge house, the beautiful greenery surrounding it and the wide, open clear blue sky.

"Or something," he smiled, "Come on, I'll show you around," he said, reaching for her hand and tugging her excitedly.

He showed her the house, front to back, inside out, and she was – she was overwhelmed. Trying to squelch the memory of watching him walking away with Gina – no nothing had happened – but she didn't know that for a while. Just as she was getting over it, now that she was here, her doubts – though irrational were creeping back to the surface.

"Kate, you don't like it?" he asked softly. Of course he'd notice something. Always attuned to her, even when she tried to hide it, there was no hiding from him.

He had some sort of Kate Beckett-sense, tingling – or were those nerves? – when something was up with her. She tried to reassure him.

"No, no. It's beautiful, Castle. Really, really big," she said, trying to smile.

"But - ?" he asked, "Tell me, Kate," he said softly, rubbing soothing circles over the back of her hand.

"But I can't help but wonder how many people you've brought here before," she said, oddly sounding embarrassed about saying it. "I mean, I know we've covered this and, it's stupid. Never mind, come on, show me the beach?" she said, putting on a smile and trying to pull him with her.

When he felt her pulling him, he yanked her back, turned her around and put his arms around her waist over her lovely flat abs. He could help but blow a small puff of air over her neck, up and up behind her ear. She shivered, and gasped, latching on to his arms with her hands.

He spoke softly into her ear, his lips grazing it with every word spoken. "I won't deny that I've brought women here before. It was an easy get away, a place where I never had to worry about my privacy. But Kate, it's never meant this before because –"

"And?" she asked breathlessly, and he dropped a kiss to her shoulder before drawing his arms back, letting her turn in his embrace so she could face him for this.

"None of them were you," he completed with a sincere smile.

She nodded, biting her lip and looking down shyly.

God, she was beautiful.

"Beach?" he asked, pointing behind her with his chin.

She reached up on her toes, being shorted without her killer heels, and closed her lips over the underside of his jaw, and then surprised him by biting him there softly.

He yelped, "Katherine Beckett, did you just bite me? I never!"

"Hmm," she said, laughing at him, she put her arms behind her back and taking a slow step back. "Well, Ricky, what can I say? Seems I've developed an expensive taste."

"Is that so?" he asked, taking a step towards her, leading her to take another backward step back, still laughing at him – this beautiful playful creature.

"Mhmm."

"Can't leave you hungry, can we?"

"Gotta catch me first, Writer Boy. I'm not so sure you can keep up."

He growled, and lunged for her, but she was quicker on her feet. "I'll show you just how well I can 'keep up', Beckett."

"Dogs that bark, do not bite."

"I'd be happy to bite you," he said with a leer, still moving for her. "Return the favor, you know?" he said, rubbing his hand over his jaw.

She laughed. "I'm sure you would," she said and turned around, and starting to run, as he chased her through the waves.

* * *

"You are _not_ helping me unpack."

"But Kateeee, it'll be faster, and then we can have lunch sooner," he said with a boyish grin just as his stomach growled. "I'm huuuungry!"

She giggled. _Giggled_ and he thought he heard the angels sing. Okay, so that might be a little dramatic, but he was hungry. And not just for food either. Then she proceeded to pull his cheeks, then smoosh them together, and he was confused. So, so confused.

"You'h smoosheeng muh chix."

"You're being cute."

"I'm not cute, I'm sexy," he huffed, batting her hands away.

"Okay, Castle," she said, turning him around, "Get your sexy little behind out of my room, and go make lunch while I unpack"

"But –" he said with a pout.

"Exactly. Cute, sexy butt. Out," she said one last time with a quick pat to his butt.

* * *

"So, how is it?"

"Eh. Passable," she said, taking another bite of the pasta he'd cooked for them. Honestly the garlic bread, pasta he'd made was delicious. She didn't know he cooked this well.

"Passable? _Passable?_ Just passable?"

"What? You asked for my opinion," she said with a shrug.

"Uh huh, uh huh. How 'bout the truth?

"How do you know it's not the truth?"

"Because your moan the second you put the damn chunk of bread in your mouth made _me_ blush."

"So you already knew how I felt."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Well…I just wanted to make sure it's a good moan?"

She narrowed her eyes as she finished another bite of pasta. "It is. You should memorize it, Rick."

"Oh. Umm. I sh – I should?" he gulped.

"Yup. Never know when you'll hear it again."

He looked at her, all wide eyes and gaping mouth, before he recovered the ability to talk. "Done. Sealed. Locked. Memorized. Forever. It's stuck in there, nice and tight. Solid."

She just smiled in that mysterious way she always did, and he knew she was laughing at him and didn't even care. He'd spend his entire life making her laugh.

* * *

"Ow ow ow ow ow! Apples!"

"Serves you right!"

"But you agreed!"

"I didn't know what I was agreeing to," she shouted. "You coerced me!"

"I did _not_. You were a fully willing participant. In fact, you were giddy with excitement at trying this out."

"No, that would be you. I was the one praying that we come out of it alive."

"You face serial killers and crazy psychopaths for a living. This hardly qualifies as life threatening."

"I can still feel my heart racing, Castle!"

"Some would say that's a good thing. Where's your sense of adventure? Sheesh. And would you let go of my ear? It's starting to go numb."

"Ugh," she huffed, and started soothing his ear in silent apology. "I don't know why I let you convince me into thinking this was a good idea."

"Eh. It's the charm. I'm charming."

"Hah."

"And I talk a lot. Enough for you to agree to almost anything to shut me up. I call it the Rick Castle strategy."

She snorted.

"Don't laugh, it's very effecti-"

She kissed him silent, her lips moving over his to wipe his mind clean while her tongue drove his body wild. "As you can see, I can very well silence you whenever I want. I call it the Kate Beckett strategy."

"It's a good strategy. I like that strategy. You know? I love learning new things. You wanna show me again, and go slow," he said seriously, but added a wink.

"I don't know, Castle. You know what they say about kissing and telling…"

"Fine, I'll just keep talking till you're so frustrated that you're left with –"

And her lips were on his again, her hands in his hair, while his wound around her, pulling her closer as they lay in the swiveling chair, on the floor where they'd fallen after an enthusiastic dive by Kate.

"See?" he breathed heavily after she pulled back. "Effective strategy."

"So is mine."

"I was talking about yours."

"Yin and Yang."

"You and me."

"Yeah," she agreed with a smile, and kissed him languidly, still on the floor.

* * *

"Let me sleep, Castle, go away," she moaned into the pillow. She was lying on her stomach, and yet fully aware of his presence.

He pushed the door to open it fully, instead of peeking through the crack. His eyes hurt. "How'd you even know I was there?"

"I can feel you creepy-staring at me."

"Nuh uh," he said, coming inside. "I was totally being a ninja."

She lifted her head from the pillow, opened one eye and snorted before setting her head back. "You sighed. Four times."

He looked down to where his toe was scuffing the rug. "You're going to be gone day after tomorrow, and I'll miss you. So I was just – soaking it up, okay? Go ahead, say it. Call me a girl again," he ended with a sigh.

She smiled and shifted on the bed. "Get in here," she said, her voice all low with sleep, and oh, so sexy.

His head snapped up and almost gave him whiplash. "Wha…..? Are you su –"

"Offer ends in 3…"

He blinked.

"…2…"

He ran and jumped onto the bed, making her yelp and bounce, and settled himself in next to her with a smile. She did not realize he could be so agile when he wanted to. Huh. Not something to think about in a bed with him alone, at night, in a romantic Hamptons getaway. Later maybe.

Then again, maybe she should have thought about that before inviting him into her bed, but he looked so damn sincere, and aww he'd miss her. But what was he thinking about? How would he take…

"Shh! Let me sleep!" he mumbled jokingly into her neck. Where his face was nestled. As he spooned her. Gah, it felt good.

She whacked him over his stomach, and he chuckled at her. "I'm not the one who's yapping at who-knows-what-o' clock at night."

"You're thinking. Loudly."

She hummed and raised her hand beneath his, jostling his till his digits settled between hers. She held it closer, as if inspecting the phenomenon, studying the evidence.

"We fit," he said.

"Mmm," she replied, sounding surprisingly nasally.

"Are you crying? Kate?" he shifted suddenly, worried.

"I'm not crying," she said in an even voice, but he could see her eyes brimming with tears that refused to fall. She must have realized that he noticed, because she added, "I don't do crying."

He chuckled, as he cradled her face, so devastatingly gentle that she had to close her eyes. "No, leave that to me, would you? I'm the girl, remember?"

"Yeah," she said with a watery smile. "My girl."

"Mhmm. All yours," he said, leaning down for a kiss. "You're extraordinary," he breathed, as he lay his forehead on hers, nudging her nose.

"Right back at you, Castle."

"Sleep, now."

"Trying to boss me around?" she said with a yawn. He chuckled again.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good, good," she said, letting herself fall into blissful oblivion.

He settled behind her again, whispering before he let sleep claim him too. "But I dream of you."

She smiled.

* * *

The smell of pancakes, waffles, and bacon drew her to him where he was standing in the kitchen looking too delicious as he yielded the spatula like a weapon.

"Haiiiiya!" he said, slapping the pancake onto the plate. "Oh! Hey. Good morning!"

She walked towards him and he just – watched, only being able to focus on that task. No one had the right to look so darn good in a shirt twice their size, and overlarge tracks that were rolled up to stay up, and that hair. What the hell, hair? Sleep rumpled and – okay, he had a hand in that too. Literally.

When he woke up next to her, he almost cried – girl that he was, and all. The previous night she'd stolen his breath as he watched through the crack in the door, looking ethereal in the glow cast by the moon light. And now – now as she walked across the beams of sunlight that shone through the wide windows of his house, the dust swirling in slow liquid circles around her in a magical dance that spoke of dreams and fantasy – was he awake? Now, sun-kissed skin and golden hair…this stealing his breath thing could not be good for his health. But health be damned – he'd come alive just to die by her time and over.

"Hello? You with me there, chef?" she teased, reaching for the now burnt pancake with his spatula. When did take his spatula?

Mesmerized by the ease of her movements in his kitchen, he watched as she tossed the wasted blackened piece of breakfast in the trashed and poured some more batter.

"Is the staring going to get worse, Castle?"

He smiled. "You have no idea."

Much like that first time the words we spoken, she bit her lips, beauty and confidence and sauntered off towards the table, hips swaying. This time, she was in her jammies, carrying a plate full of breakfast, no bath, no make-up. Still sexy as hell.

This time, he followed.

* * *

They were having lunch at a small establishment close to water, watching the boats as they bobbed serenely in the lazy afternoon.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No."

"But –"

"You need one more? Fine. Read my lips. NO."

"I'd rather do other, more exciting things to your lips," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Castle – "

"It won't be like yesterday. You'll just be in charge of the stop-watch. Besides, you're leaving me here by my lonesome tomorrow. I'll miss you," he said with an exaggerated pout.

She threw a napkin at his face. "Don't act cute, Castle. It won't always work."

"Damn. Had to try."

They laughed. He didn't stop trying to convince her.

* * *

They were walking hand in slightly sweaty hand on the beach. The thing romantic novels are made of with just a minor difference.

They weren't whispering sweet nothings to each other, as she slipped the stray strands of hair back behind her ear. No, nothing sweet. Loads of gore and macabre, though, as they discussed great ways to off his next victim – for Naked Heat, just to be clear.

Then he mentioned the title of his book accidentally, pursed his lips and squinted at her when he realized. She yanked her hand out of his, the smile dropping off her face to be replaced by shock and a look that garnered terror from the strongest criminals.

"Ummmmm. Remember how you think I'm cute?"

She blew her hair out of her face, and somehow she looked simultaneously sexy and terrifying.

"And sometimes I'm sexy…?" Castle said with an unconvincing toothy grin.

"You are going down."

"Oh my God, that's so hot," he said, and then bolted for it.

She chased him and dropped him into the water, leaving him soaked, spluttering, and still turned on.

He started gasping for breath, and she leaned down, concerned. He pulled her further so she fell over him, straddling him to keep her balance.

"That wasn't funny, you jerk."

"It was, a little," he said, shaking his head like a dog, splashing little droplets of water all over her face. She tried to punch him half heartedly, but he caught her wrist, with one hand supporting her back. "I'm sorry, you're right. That was not in good taste. Forgive me?"

She placed her hand on his jaw, her thumb sliding along his cheek. "Don't do that to me again."

"Okay."

"Okay," she nudged his nose with hers and kissed him soundly – forgiveness, and relief.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven for 'Naked Heat' too?"

She smirked. "Oh no. You're going to have to work for that. And you can start by giving me the manuscript to read."

"We'll talk about it," he grinned and kissed her.

* * *

He looked ridiculous and adorable – ridiculously adorable as he stood at her door, digging into the carpet again. "So…"

"So?" she asked, deciding to torture him just a little.

"So, goodnight. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow," he said, smiling sadly.

Her heart broke. "No goodnight kiss?"

"Oh, yeah," he grinned, and came towards her. It was so easy to make him happy, her heart hurt. He leaned down to kiss her, and she allowed him to.

When he tried to pull back, she grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt and yanked him down on top of her.

"MmKate?" he said through the kiss.

"Hmm?" she asked without breaking the kiss.

They paused for breath, and he gazed into her eyes, surprised and happy. "Nothing."

"You gonna let me sleep tonight, Castle."

He sighed, acting chagrined. "If I must."

She smiled, and he shifted to settle beside her under the covers. She put her leg over his thighs, an arm over his chest and her head over his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her, and held her gently, like he was handling something fragile – something of immense important – like he was handling a heart.

He was. It was his heart.

* * *

Her things were in his car. She was taking his car back to Manhattan, and her things were in his car.

"I'll see you in a month." He smiled.

"Don't. Don't do that."

"What? I'm not doing anything."

She sighed, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, lingering then, cheek to cheek. "Alexis and Martha are going to join you, right?" she asked, and waited for him to nod, his cheek rubbing hers. "So, instead of getting the car service to drop them here, you come home for the weekend, and leave with them on the following Monday."

"I love it when you solve things," he said, beaming.

She barked out her laughter. "Good thing I do that for a living, huh?"

"I am the luckiest guy. Ever."

"Yeah, you are. Now, I will see you when I see you," she said, turning to the car, only to be yanked back, causing her to gasp.

"At least leave me with a decent kiss to carry me through the week."

She did.

* * *

She didn't even think twice when she reached home after driving his car to his place, and leaving the keys with Martha and Alexis. He'd be renting a car to come and take them to the Hamptons over the weekend. It was just easier. With that solved, she got home, and without even unpacking, she was already pulling up his number.

"Hey!" he answered on the first ring.

"Hey!"

"Reach home okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good. That's good. Heading in to the precinct later?"

"Yup. Break's over. And there's a case."

"Nice."

"I miss you."

"Oh thank GOD! Hah."

She laughed at the relief in his voice as he yelled his response.

"I was dying to say that, but then you'll call me a girl again, so I was trying to hold back. Do you know how hard it is to not say something sappy to you? Do you?"

She laughed harder. "Castle, you can always say what's on your mind."

"Aha! I knew it. You love the sap. Admit it."

"I will admit no such thing."

"You love saaap," he sang, "and you love corn, and you love cheese, and you love m-."

Silence.

"Kate? I'm sorry – I was just – it rhymed...kind of?" He took a deep breath. _You can always say what's on your mind._"And it may be bad timing – which seems like some sort of curse now that I think about it – but you can just ignore that if you want."

Silence.

"Please say something," he pleaded softly.

"I do."

"Say what? I think there's a cross connection or something," he said tapping his phone.

"I love sap…" she began.

"And corn…"

"And cheese…"

If he held his breath any longer, he was going to pass out.

"And I love you."

He released his breath and then some, and actually gasped his next breath. "I love you, too, Kate. So much."

"Yeah," she smiled into the phone, feeling giddy and completely surprised at herself.

"Yeah," he repeated softly.

They stayed on the line, silent, listening to each other's breaths wash over them from the distance, till she had to get ready to head to the precinct.

"Talk to you later?" she asked.

"You can count on it. Call me when you're free. I don't care what time."

"Okay, later."

"Later," she said and hung up, trying unsuccessfully to tamp down her smile.

To think, it all started with a call.

* * *

_~Fin~_

* * *

**A/N: **

Thank you everyone who's been following this story from the start, everyone who joined in somewhere in between, and everyone who read this for the first time, all in one go.

Thank you to the kind anon/anons who have been leaving me reviews here and also for my other stories. I can feel the love, and I hope you can feel mine.

Thank you to all my friends who are the best at encouraging, flailing, and generally being awesome.

P.S. I hope ya'll are happy with the amount of smoochies I managed to sneak in.


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